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CECIL ROSSE, 


CHAPTER I. 

A MOUNTAIN-EYRIE. 

PON the north-west coast of 
Scotland, in a region of utter 
wildness and savageness, over 
which broods eternally an air 
of awful desolation, a dreary 
promontory pushes itself boldly 
out into the seething sea, like the 
head of some huge and terrible 
monster. 

This promontory is known as 
Black Rock. 

Its precipitous face rises steeply from the ocean 
to a height of several hundred feet, and in its many 
jagged crevices the eider ducks breed unmolested 
by even the most adventurous hunter. Sea-gulls 
circle about its top, filling the air with their wild 

[7] 



8 


Cecil Rossi, 


screams, adding their share to the weird strange- 
ness of the scene. 

Black Rock is far remote from all the haunts of 
men. The nearest cluster of fishermen’s huts, or 
shepherd’s cabins, is many, many miles away. No 
adventurous tourist ever treads the dangerous 
mountain passes that lead to Black Rock ; no guide- 
book even contains its name. It is supposed to be 
out of the pale of human seeking, and even the 
fishermen upon the coast give it a wide berth, 
because of the treacherous, hidden rocks outlying it, 
their pointed, jagged tops, like sharks’ teeth, ever 
gaping for prey. 

Yet, despite the terrible loneliness of a spot so 
forsaken by man, and apparently forgotten by its 
Creator, a house stands upon the summit of Black 
Rock — a long, low, gray stone house of rambling 
shape, with a tall lookout tower commanding a 
magnificent view of the sea. The house is hidden 
in a thick growth of scrubby pines and hemlocks, so 
as scarcely to be seen from the sea, or even from 
the land until one stands at its very portal. 

The old house of Black Rock has a tragic his- 
tory in keeping with its surroundings. 

A powerful Highland family once dwelt within 
its walls. This family became reduced in size as 
in power until, at last, two brothers, the last oi 
their race, only remained to keep the old hearth- 
stone warm. 

These brothers, born in one hour, and devotedly 
attached to each other, as twins are apt to be, fell 
both in love with the same lady, a beautiful Low- 


A Mountain-Eyrie, 


9 


land heiress. She played fast and loose with them, 
and secretly engaged herself to both. With the 
new love came a breaking up of the old. Jealousy 
crept in and made a wide breach between the two 
young men who had never before in all their lives 
known an hour's alienation. 

The younger son, fiery, impetuous, and passionate 
yet withal noble and tender-hearted, retired to the 
wild Highland fastness, confident of the faith of his 
betrothed, and meditating upon schemes of recon- 
ciling his brother to his expected marriage. 

That brother remained in Edinburgh, and paid 
such assiduous court to the Lowland heiress that 
she, discovering him to be the heir of his ancestral 
estates, yielded to his] pleadings and became his 
bride. 

No intimation of the marriage was sent to the 
young and trusting lover at Black Rock. The 
happy husband, unconscious of the treachery of his 
bride, planned to surprise his brother, and bought 
and fitted up a beautiful yacht, in which he sailed 
with his false young bride for his northern eyrie. 

In those days the place lacked much of the deso- 
lation of the present time. A score of Highland 
servants, trusted old retainers, who were in reality 
humble friends of the family, filled the servant's 
hall. The stables contained many horses of rugged 
Highland breed. Boats filled the little harbor 
sheltered by the promontory. 

Guests thronged the great halls and quaint, low 
drawing-rooms, coming many days' journey and 
often remaining months at a time. The gardens 


lO 


Cecil Rosse. 


were bright with bloom during the brief summers, 
and all the year round the Black Rock conserva- 
tories held a wealth of tropical blossom and verdure 
in striking contrast to the rugged native productions. 

To this home the favored elder brother brought 
his wife. The yacht sailed into the little harbor 
one summer afternoon near the hour of sunset, and 
the gay bridal party, numbering a score of persons, 
came swarming up the cliff by the flight of steps 
cut in the rocks. 

They were met at the main entrance, upon the 
very threshold, by the deceived younger twin. The 
elder gaily introduced his wife. The younger stood 
appalled like a statue of marble. But as he com- 
prehended the whole fatal truth, how he had been 
tricked and deceived by the smiling coquette he had 
so trusted, passion overcame the love of a lifetime, 
a very whirlwind of fury seized his soul. 

He leaped backward, caught from the wall of the 
great hall a sword his grandfather had wielded in 
some memorable battle, tore it from its scabbard, 
and hurled himself upon his brother. Before the 
horrified spectators could recover from the stupor 
of amazement that held them enthralled, the hapless 
bridegroom fell to the floor, literally hewn to pieces. 

The murderer, horror-stricken at his crime, 
backed his way to the edge of the cliff, protecting 
his retreat with the dripping sword, and hurled 
himself over the precipice into eternity. 

His mangled corpse was found among the rocks 
and buried with a stake driven through its breast. 

The bride became a hopeless maniac, and lingered 


A Mountain-Eyrie. 1 1 


out her long life in a padded cell in an insane asylum 
at Edinburgh. 

The scene of the tragedy was abandoned by the 
old retainers, the old house was closed, and only one 
old couple was found to remain upon the estate. 
They dwelt in a hut near the great house, but were 
careful never to visit it after nightfall. 

The property reverted to a distant connection of 
the family who was wealthy and never visited his 
new acquisition. The fields and pastures went to 
waste, the Highland cattle grew wild and fierce, the 
gardens became a wilderness, and the old stone 
dwelling began to show signs of age. 

Fifty years had passed since the date of the 
tragedy, and the scene of long-past gayety had 
become what we have described. The old house 
was believed to be haunted by the spirits of the two 
brothers, and in fishers’ hamlets, fifty miles down 
the coast, the story of the last of the Cathcairns 
was told in shuddering whispers, in the Gaelic 
tongue, about the smoking peat-fires on wintry 
nights, and when a wilder blast of wind than usual 
blew in from the Atlantic, the simple peasants half- 
believed it the wail of those lost souls. 

The old couple who had dwelt in the hut, and 
taken some care of the estate, had removed to the 
southward when the infirmities of years crept on, 
and had died there. No one had ever been found to 
take their place, but the tradition of the spot sufficed 
to protect the house and its contents from depre- 
dation and even from visits. From one year’s end 
to the other, no one ever came by sea or land to 


12 


Cecil Rosse. 


desolate Black Rock, upon which so heavy a curse 
seemed to have fallen. 

But fishermen, occasionally sailing at a distance 
from the promontory, told of spectral lights that 
burned on dark nights in the old tower, and sur- 
mised that the ghosts of the Cathcairns would never 
know rest while one stone of the old structure 
remained upon another. 

The time in which we introduce the old house to 
the attention of the reader, is a blustering afternoon 
in that very month of March, when the London 
detectives announced to Lord Glenham their belief 
that Cecil Rosse was d^d and that further search 
for her would be time lost. 

A faint smoke was curling from one of the chim- 
neys of the Black Rock dwelling. 

At a small mullioned window of the third story of 
the tower, a girl stood looking out over the tops of 
the scrubby pines at the sea. 

The panes of glass were small and diamond- 
shaped, and heavily set in lead, in ancient fashion. 
The girl's face, wan and wistful, was pressed close 
against the window, while- her eager, mournful eyes 
surveyed the scene with intense dreariness. 

The sea, a leaden surface lashed to a white fury 
by the March wind, was nearly hidden by a thick 
white whirl of falling snow. 

The girl who gazed so wistfully out into the storm 
was no ghost of a perjured coquette, but a living 
reality. She was slender and graceful as a willow, 
with a youthful majesty of bearing as remarkable 
as it rendered her distinguished. Despite her pallor 


A Mountam-Eyrie, 


13 


and thinness, her splendid young beauty was 
unmarred in a single line or feature. 

The red-brown hair with a golden shimmer upon 
its loose waves, her red-brown eyes with a golden 
glint in their depths, reminding one of a yellow star 
reflected from a clear deep well, the tender, sensi- 
tive, lovely young mouth, the fairness, the sweet- 
ness, the unfaltering courage shown in look and 
attitude — surely these were the features and attri- 
butes of the lost young girl for whom so many had 
searched so long and vainly ! 

The girl was Cecil Rosse ! 

The room was large and long, and was connected 
by a half-open door with a second chamber of similar 
size. 

There were four or five windows, all overlooking 
the sea. There was a wide and yawning fire-place, 
large as a small room. A fire of logs blazed in it. 
The floor was covered with a heavy but faded old 
carpet that had done good service sixty years before. 
A half-dozen, old-fashioned, straight-backed chairs, 
and sofas of similar pattern, with a lady's work-table, 
a writing-table, and various other conveniences for 
lady -like employment, comprized the furniture. 

The low walls were hung with ancient tapestry 
of French manufacture, and of great age. These 
hangings had formerly decorated the drawing-room ; 
but had been removed to this chamber for greater 
convenience of repair. 

A high chair stood before a section of tapestry 
that had been enclosed in a small embroidery frame. 
A needle threaded with red wool was thrust into the 


14 


Cecil Rosse. 


canvas. A second high chair close to the other 
supported a basket of gay balls of wool, a cushion 
for needles, and other appurtenances for sewing. 

Cecil had been hard at Work until the waning 
light had compelled her to cease from her toil. She 
had been steadily at work for months upon her task 
of renovation, and was physically tired, but the 
wistfulness and sadness of her face indicated a 
depression of spirits also that was even harder to 
bear. 

The history of her sojourn at Black Rock House 
can be briefly told. 

The yacht that Mr. Pulford had chartered for his 
villainous purpose had made a long voyage up the 
western coasts of England and Scotland, encounter- 
ing much bad weather, during which Cecil and old 
Gretchen kept their berths, and had finally come to 
anchor about midnight one starlit night in Black 
Rock Harbor. 

Miss Rosse, Gretchen, and Maria, the Portuguese 
stewardess, had been hurried ashore and piloted up 
to the house, which was found to be tenanted by 
two persons, a married couple, newly arrived, and to 
be opened and aired for occupancy. 

Miss Rosse and her servant believed themselves 
at Greycourt, in Yorkshire. The occupants of the 
house profited by their ignorance and did not 
undeceive them. The new-comers were shown to 
the rooms in the tower that had been hastily fitted 
up for them, and Maria established herself as Miss 
Rosse's especial servant and keeper. 

The yacht sailed away before daybreak, and 


A Mountain-Eyrie. 


15 


headed for Holland, according to Mr. Pulford’s 
instructions. Mr. Pulford had improved upon his 
original plan and bought the yacht outright, at half 
its value. When the vessel arrived at Amsterdam, 
he was there to meet it. 

The seamen who had been employed upon it were 
nearly all foreigners. He discharged them, and 
noted with satisfaction that they shipped in a body 
the next day upon an East Indiaman, which found 
itself short-handed on the very eve of a voyage to 
Java. The ship sailed, and Mr. Pulford hired a 
sufficient crew to convey the yacht back to London, 
where he succeeded in selling it within a month of 
its return. 

The couple who were found in charge of Black 
Rock House were an elderly and avaricious pair, 
who had done Mr. Pulford much service in days 
gone by, and who were too deeply in his power to 
gainsay his commands. As they were to be well 
paid for the work in hand, and as the man was 
being eagerly sought for by the police upon some 
criminal charge, their retirement to this solitude 
was regarded by them as an especial instance of 
good fortune, of which they were more than prompt 
to take advantage. 

Miss Rosse and her old servant were treated with 
consideration and kindness by Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis, 
as well as by Maria, the Portuguese woman, and 
not the faintest suspicion that they were actually 
prisoners ever crossed the minds of the pair. 

Many things seemed strange to them in their new 
residence, and in the conduct and appearance of 


i6 


Cecil Rosse. 


their attendants ; but Cecil, who was keener-witted 
than Gretchen, was too occupied with her work to 
pay much heed to these indications. 

At first the girl had been delighted with the wild- 
ness and savage grandeur of the scenery, but when 
winter came with its furious northern blasts and 
driving storms the terrible loneliness of the place 
oppressed her. She began to be tired of the cease- 
less roar of the waves as they beat against Black 
Rock, and to long for the sounds of human life, the 
noise of city streets, the sight of more pleasant 
faces than those that met her gaze in this strange 
new existence. 

She had made the best of her sojourn in the 
remote Highlands, having taken long walks every 
day when the weather permitted, attended by 
Gretchen and Maria, but there were weeks together 
when the high drifts of snow and tempestuous winds 
kept her withindoors, to the detriment of her health 
and spirits. 

She was still looking out of the window, when the 
door opening upon the stone corridor was pushed 
ajar and Gretchen came in. 

It’s a wild night. Miss Cecil,” said the old pea- 
sant woman. “ The sea beats against the rocks like 
the tolling of a funeral bell. And the snow is whirl- 
ing in great drifts. There’ll be no walking for a 
fortnight.” 

Cecil turned about abruptly. 

“ Don’t prophecy such terrible things, Gretchen,” 
she exclaimed. I could never endure to remain 


I? 


A Mountain-Eyrie, 


here another fortnight. I am anxious to return to 
London.” 

And so am I, my pet,” said the old servant, 
affectionately. ‘‘ Haven’t I seen you pine and chafe 
at this prison-like place, although you are too brave 
and patient to say one word against it ? How comes 
on the work ?” 

‘‘ It will be done to-morrow night. After nearly 
six months of constant labor, the task will be 
finished in a few hours.” 

“And well finished too, Miss Cecil. You have 
faded your wools in the sun to make them match 
these faded tints, and you’ve fitted in your bits of 
canvas as if they had grown there, and you’ve 
designed figures to fill up the missing places, and 
even Lady Trevor herself would be puzzled to find 
the places were the holes were. Her ladyship will 
pay you a good price, but you’ll earn the money. 
I’ll say that.” 

“ It has been a hard winter’s work, but I shall not 
regret our coming if we can get away soon,” said 
Miss Rosse. “ I had formed such different ideas of 
Yorkshire. It took us many days to reach this 
place — ” 

“ Because we were driven out of our course by 
bad weather,” interrupted Gretchen, giving the 
captain’s false excuse for the long voyage. 

“And this house is not at all like my idea of an 
English country seat,” said innocent Cecil. “ It 
might be delightful in summer, but it is terrible in 
winter. We have been storm-bound for months. 
We have never seen a human being since we came 


i8 


Cecil Rosse. 


here except the three belonging to the house. We 
might as well be on a rock in mid-ocean, we are so 
cut off from all intercourse with the world. And 
these grim and .awful mountains shutting us in upon 
the landward side, and the grim and awful sea 
hemming us in on the water side, make the spot 
seem a natural prison. Yorkshire is very different 
from the description of it in the geographies. The 
scenery and the climate, the loneliness and desola- 
tion, correspond to my ideas of life near the North 
Pole.’’ 

‘‘ I don’t know anything about geographies. Miss 
Cecil,” responded the old peasant woman, but I 
wish we were back in London, or in our own dear 
Black Forest. The letters you’ve written this 
winter to Mrs. Thomas, and the new Herr Pastor at 
Zorlitz, and that I wrote to that kind Mr. Crafton, 
have never been sent, because Mr. Jarvis has not 
been able to leave this place over a day at a time. 
I notice that Mrs. Jarvis called this estate Black 
Rock the other day, instead of Greycourt She told 
me that it was known as Black Rock before Lady 
Trevor bought it, and I thought the old name the 
most appropriate.” 

I think so, too,” said Cecil. How dark it’s 
growing ! Ring for lights, Gretchen.” 

The young girl took a last look into the white 
darkness without, but the sea was no longer visible. 
She could not distinguish the whirling gusts of 
snow, and the sky was hidden from her keenest 
glances. 

Gretchen rang for lights, and Maria brought up 


A Mountain-Eyrie, 


19 


two tall wax candles, which she deposited on the 
high mantelpiece. The Portuguese woman then 
drew out a small, round table which she proceeded 
to lay for supper. 

How comes on the embroidery. Miss T she 
inquired, in broken English, as vShe went on with 
her task. 

‘‘ It will be done to-morrow/’ replied Cecil. And 

I must start for London the .day after.” 

Oh, impossible !” exclaimed Maria. The roads 
will be impassable for two weeks at least.” 

Then I must signal the first fishing-boat I see,” 
declared Miss Rosse. I cannot stay here longer. 
My friends will be anxious about me. Some fish- 
ing vessel will carry me down the coast to the near- 
est town, I know.” 

Maria’s swarthy visage darkened visibly. 

You’d better be content. Miss,” she replied, in a 
constrained voice. You’ll have to stay a month or 
two, at the least — ” 

“ I will not. If I cannot get away by boat. I’ll 
try the road to the nearest house,” said Cecil, having 
not the faintest suspicion of how many miles lay 
between Black Rock and the ‘‘nearest house.” 
“ Gretchen and I cannot endure this solitude longer. 
I shall see Mr. Jarvis to-morrow. He must contrive 
some plan to convey us to the nearest town this 
very week.” 

A tap at the door announced the presence of Mrs. 
Jarvis. Maria obeyed the summons, receiving from 
the housekeeper a tray loaded with food of excel- 
lent quality, well-cooked and well-served. A veni- 


20 


Cecil Rosse. 


son-steak, steaming hot, a pot of fragrant tea, hot 
roasted potatoes, and crisp buttered toast made up 
a repast sufficient in quantity for two persons. 

Miss Rosse dismissed Maria, and was waited upon 
by Gretchen, who jealously refused to allow the 
Portuguese to wait upon her young mistress at the 
table or the toilet. 

‘‘Venison-steak needs currant jelly,’' said the 
old peasant woman, who had learned many things, 
besides a tolerable knowledge of the English lan- 
guage, during her stay at Black Rock. “ I wonder 
Mrs. Jarvis forgot it. I’ll go and get it !” 

Unheeding Cecil’s remonstrance, she hurried out. 
She came back five minutes later, pale and excited, 
trembling like a leaf, and having a most mysterious 
air. 

“ Hush !” she whispered, holding up one finger 
warningly. “ Follow me. Miss Cecil. Throw your 
cloak over your shoulders, for the halls are full of 
draughts. You understand English so well that 
you will know what they mean better than I. 
Come, Miss Cecil. For the Lord’s sake, don’t stop 
to question. There’s something up — there’s some- 
thing terribly wrong going on — and we must find 
out what it is.” 



CHAPTER 11. 

EAVESDROPPING. 

There was something so startled and startling in 
the manner of old Gretchen that Miss Rosse was 
seized with a quick and vivid alarm. She arose 
immediately, not stopping to question the old 
woman, and received from her servant’s hands her 
arge cloak, which she gathered about her shoulders. 

“ Follow me. Miss Cecil,” said Gretchen. Not a 
word ! Be silent as death — ^butcome !” 

The old woman opened the door and led the way 
into the hall. They glided along over the stone 
floor, the cold gusts of wind that traversed the cor- 
ridors striking a chill to Cecil’s bones. 

Gretchen conducted her young mistress down a 
flight of narrow stone steps through a lower corri- 
dor, down another flight of steps, and through a 
long stone passage in which impenetrable darkness 
reigned. Cecil clung to her old servant as they sped 
on together. 

“ Where are we going whispered the young 
mistress at last, beginning to recover from the vague 
terror that had rendered her so quietly obedient 

[ 21 ] 


22 


Cecil Rosse, 


to Gretchen’s will. “ To the kitchen — the servant’s 
hall 

Hush !’' said the old woman, in a warning whis- 
per. “ Here we are 

They had arrived before the massive, oaken door 
leading to the kitchen. Gretchen stooped and 
peeped through the key-hole. Then, arising, she 
gently pressed her mistress to occupy her place. 

Look !” she whispered. 

Cecil involuntarily obeyed. 

Looking through the immense and ancient key- 
hole, she beheld the interior of the large, low 
kitchen, with its great fireplace filled with blazing 
logs, its dresser laden with dishes and tins, and a 
table in the glow of the firelight, upon which was 
spread a bountiful supper. 

Around the table were gathered Mr. and Mrs. 
Jarvis, and Maria, the Portuguese woman. 

The husband and wife were by no means a pre- 
possessing-looking pair. The former was a man of 
middle-age, with a square-built, heavy frame, with 
brawny arms disproportionately long, and with a 
bullet-head set upon a short, thick neck. He looked 
rough and coarse and brutal, and his mental 
and moral characteristics corresponded with his 
external appearance. 

Mrs. Jarvis was also middle-aged, and heavily 
built. She had more natural refinement than her 
husband, and her intellect was also superior to his 
in strength and keenness. But morally she was no 
better than he. The two had sprung from the 


Eavesdropping. 


23 


lowest class of London life, and were familiar with 
crime. 

The three had evidently finished their repast. 
The Portuguese woman was leaning both elbows 
upon the table, addressing her companions in very 
good English, she having acquired considerable 
facility in the use of that tongue since her arrival at 
Black Rock. 

Miss Rosse was about to rise and withdraw from 
the contemplation of this scene, with a sense of 
rising indignation against Gretchen for so need- 
lessly alarming her, when her old servant, divining 
her intention, held her in her place with a deter- 
mined hand. 

In the same instant Maria's voice penetrated to 
the young lady's ears. 

‘‘The trouble we've so long looked forward to is 
close at hand," Maria’s sibilant tones were saying. 
“ You may sneer at me if you will, but I repeat — 
this quiet young lady, with her soft and gentle 
ways , is likely to be a very troublesome customer. 
Once let her suspect the truth, and we shall have 
our hands full !" 

“ She needn’t suspect the truth for a month yet," 
observed Mrs. Jarvis. “ One storm will succeed 
another, the roads will continue impassable, and her 
going can be put off upon excuses as even she will 
have to accept as reasonable !” 

“ But she means to signal a boat !" 

“We must prevent that !" said Mr. Jarvis, with a 
rough oath. 

“ There it is !" cried Maria. “ If you prevent the 


24 


Cecil Rosse. 


signal, how are you going to keep from her the fact 
that she is a prisoner V 

Cecil started. What could they mean ? 

‘‘Well,*' responded Mrs. Jarvis, coolly, if she 
forces us to tell her the truth, let the truth- be 
spoken. As well first as last. Won’t she open her 
eyes when she finds that she ain’t at Greycourt at 
all, nor in Yorkshire — as she couldn’t have been 
imposed on only for being a foreigner — and that 
this ain’t no Lady Trevor’s house.” 

And that her embroidery- work has all been a 
humbug,” cried Mr. Jarvis. 

^‘And that she has been a prisoner all these 
months while she thought herself so free,” said Maria. 

Cecil Rosse was appalled. That some stupendous 
piece of villainy was in progress, and that she was 
its intended victim, forced itself upon her convic- 
tions. She clung to the door-knob, leaning upon it 
heavily. 

“ It’s the rummiest piece of business I ever 
engaged into,” observed Mr. Jarvis. “Here we’ve 
kept watch all these months over a young woman 
as never has even imagined she was our prisoner, 
and has took her walks along of a keeper — you, 
Maria — never suspecting your real character ! It is 
the beatenest thing ! Lor’, if that young woman 
know’d who we really is, she’d jest faint with horror ! 
Her deliket stummick couldn’t stand the shock !” 

“ An’ such a winter as we’ve had !” exclaimed 
Mrs. Jarvis, discontentedly. “Snow and ice and 
wind till I’m that sick of ’em all I should prefer 
^ Botomy Bay. If we had that big sum of money as 


Eavesdropping. 


25 


is promised us, we could go wherever we liked, we 
could settle that there business of yours, J arvis, 
with the police, and live like kings — that’s what we 
could !” 

“ Yes, but the big sum of money as you speak of,” 
responded Jarvis, only comes under one condi- 
tion.” 

And that condition is the girl’s death !” said 
Mrs. Jarvis, in a low, suppressed voice which yet 
distinctly reached the ears of the listeners. 

Cecil stood as if petrified. There was a deadly 
meaning in the looks and tones of the three plotters 
— a horrible earnestness that would not permit her 
to doubt that they were speaking words of truth. 

But what was this frightful conspiracy against 
her ? Did some one seek her liberty, and even her 
life ? A cold sweat sprang out upon her face. Her 
heart seem to cease its beating. Yet her hearing, 
preternaturally quickened, heard all that followed. 

“If I get the sum that’s promised me,” said 
Maria, her greasy dark face full of scheming, “ I 
shall go back to my own country and buy a house 
and keep a servant and live like a lady. And I 
shall make a good marriage with that dowry. I 
wish the girl was dead.” 

“ So do I !” said Mrs. Jarvis, sullenly. “ Her life 
is all that stands between me and what f most 
desire !” 

“ I suppose you know as that life is a small 
obstacle,” said Mrs. Jarvis. “ A very small obstacle, 
indeed. And our employer, he wants her dead, 
What’s to hinder our facilitatin’ natur, so to speak ?” 


26 


Cecil Rosse. 


The three looked at each other with evil signifi- 
cance. 

Gretchen clutched her young mistress by the 
shoulder with an unconsciously fierce grip. 

“ Well,’' said Mrs. Jarvis, slowly, “it is the spirit 
of our employer's words, if not the letter of 'em, to 
hurry up her death. We've done worse things, Jar- 
vis, nor that." 

“ I am willing," said Maria, eagerly. “ I want my 
money. With that for a dowry I can marry a man 
I know and set up a cabaret. I'd buy the house, 
and be mistress of it. I've got it all planned, and 
to be kept here by a slender girl — a mere baby in 
strength — bah ! I won't stand it, if you do !" 

“We ain't so exactly anxious to fool away time 
here neither," said Jarvis. “ Why, the gal may 
live years if left to herself. Them slender uns is the 
very scratch for hanging on to life sometimes. And 
she's a strong-willed un, as brave as a lion. I've 
seen it in her eyes." 

“ After you've taken a glass too much,'' said his 
wife, with a sneer. “We are all agreed as we 
couldn’t stand another winter here ?" 

“We are !" said the others, in a breath. 

And we’re agreed as we’d like our money imme- 
diate ?" 

“ We are 1'^ 

Then,"' said Mrs. Jarvis^ “how are we going to 
get it ? How shall we get rid of the girl ? How 
shall we compass her death ?" 

Gretchen leaned more heavily upon her young 
mistress, breathing hard. 


Eavesdropping, 


27 


Husti !” muttered Maria, What’s that noise 

They all listened. A silence like that of death 
reigned. 

“ It must have been a rat,” said Jarvis. ** There’s 
awful rats in this house, big enough to eat up a cat. 
I wish my hounds outside was rat-terriers ; then 
you’d see sport.” 

“ Miss Rosse is safe in her room, eating her ven- 
ison steak,” said Mrs. Jarvis, “and planning her 
signals, or packing her trunk. Lor’, to think a 
human being in this here nineteenth century can be 
so unsuspicious-like, and honest and baby-like as she 
is, is wonderful. She was brought up among 
peasants in a black forest some whe res, and that 
German creetur is as stupid as a cow. Don't know 
beans !” 

“ But we’ll have to get rid of her along with her 
missUvS,” said Jarvis. “Old Gretchen is a cow as I 
shouldn’t wish to leave alive to tell tales on us,” 

“And how’s the thing to be done ?” questioned 
Maria, “ Poison ?” 

“ Or pushing over the cliff ?” suggested Mrs. Jar- 
vis. “ That would be an excellent plan,” 

“Or smothering with a bolster,” said Jarvis, “like 
a man I see onst to a theatre. He was jealous and 
smothered his wife — ” 

“You mean Lothario,” interrupted Mrs. Jarvis. 
“ The deed had better be done quiet. I know a 
poison weed to stew up with their coffee. We can 
talk the thing over at our leisure now we’ve decided 
to kill them. We can’t get away from this place 
safely under a month. I don’t want to stay under 


28 


Cecil Rosse. 


this roof one night after their deaths, for fear they’d 
ha’nt ns. Such things is, they say, and I won’t risk 
it !” 

You’re right. Let ’em live till we are ready to 
start for England,” said Maria. There’s that 
strange noise again ! This old house is full ot 
noises. We’ll plan out how to kill Miss Rosse and 
Gretchen and carry out the plan a month hence. 
Meanwhile, we’ll keep a closer watch on ’em than 
ever. We’ll prevent any signals or escape, and lull 
Miss’s suspicions if she should possibly have any,” 
Jarvis arose quietly and began stealthily to creep 
along the wall towards the hall door, 

“I'm agreeable to the plan,” said Mrs. Jarvis,” 
with an air of relief. “ The thing is settled — all but 
details. Them we can arrange at our leisure. Jar- 
vis, what are you up to T* 

Jarvis suddenly pulled open the door. 

Cecil Rosse and old Gretchen were seen, both 
pale as ghosts, and wild with terror, cowering on 
the threshold. 

With one shrill scream, Cecil turned to run down 
the stone passage. In an instant Jarvis had seized 
her by her rippling hair and dragged her brutally 
into the kitchen. 

Old Gretchen followed, wringing her hands, and 
begging that her mistress’s life might be spared. 

“Shut up!” commanded Jarvis. “ Now, you 
women, we’re found out. The gal has listened to 
everything. She’s got to die, sure enough, and the 
old creetur with her. Lock the doors, and we’ll 
settle this here business !” 



CHAPTER IIL 

IMPRISONMENT. 

The excited order of Jarvis was promptly obeyed. 
Mrs. Jarvis ran and secured the great outer door of 
the kitchen with bolts and bars, while Maria, the 
Portuguese woman, locked the door leading into the 
hall, and transferred the massive key to her pocket. 

It was a weird and strange scene. 

The black stone floor, the kneeling figure of Cecil 
Rosse, her young face upturned, her dusk eyes wild 
and scared, yet withal strangely brave, the brawny, 
red hand of her enemy clutching the rippling 
waves of her red-brown hair ; behind her old 
Gretchen, moaning and wringing her hands ; on 
either side the two sinister women, awaiting their 
master’s orders, and over the whole group the 
strong glare of the light that flamed from the blaz- 
ing logs on the wide hearth. 

Outside, the wintry gusts of wind raved and 
roared. A whirling eddy of snow came in under 
the great door. In the chimney the winds held 
high revel, whistling and screaming like unloosed 
demons. It seemed as if nature herself were in 

[29) 



30 


Cecil Rosse. 


sympathy on this night with deeds of violence and 
crime. 

In his excitement, Jarvis had dragged his young 
victim to the floor. Now that the doors were fast 
and his excitement began to cool, he loosened his 
hold upon her and retreated a few paces, pausing to 
regard her with mingled fury and exultation. 

There’s an old sayin’ as listeners never hear no 
good of themselves,” he exclaimed, and you’ve 
found it out, Miss !” 

Miss Rosse staggered to her feet and sank down 
into the nearest chair. 

‘‘ I’d have you know as Miss Cecil wouldn’t have 
listened, not even to such as you, a-plotting her 
death, if I hadn’t suspected something and fetched 
her down !” cried Gretchen, indignantly. 

“ You suspected something !” exclaimed Mrs. 
Jarvis, with a sneer. ‘‘ You r 

Oh, I’m an old cow,” cried Gretchen, ‘^and 
stupid, and all that, as you say, I suppose, or I’d 
have made my young mistress run away this very 
night instead of bringing her down here to be 
caught like a bird in the snare. Oh, Miss Cecil, for- 
give me — it’s all my fault !” 

‘‘ Hush, Gretchen,” said Cecil, softly and affection- 
ately. Do not blame yourself !” 

It was my man’s sharpness that caught you,” 
said Mrs. Jarvis. Lor’, Jarvis,” and she turned to 
him admiringly, how keen you are. To think you 
detected them a-list’ning when Maria and me 
couldn’t hear anything. You’re like them blood- 
hounds, you are.” 


Imprisonment, 


3 ^ 


Jarvis appeared complimented. He stroked his 
stubby chin while he regarded his prisoners with 
keen and threatening eyes. 

YouVe heard what wasn’t intended for your 
ears, Miss,” he said, after a pause, ^‘.but we won’t 
have to explain matters, so time’s saved. You know 
now that you are a prisoner here ?” 

The girl bowed her head in assent. 

“ You know as you a’n’t at no Greycourt, nor in 
Yorkshire ?” 

“ Where am I, then ?” asked Cecil, who had 
attained to a marvelous calmness, although her 
pulses beat fierce and fast. “ Am I in England ?” 

No, you’re not. I shall not tell you where you 
are !” 

‘‘ Does Lady Trevor own this house ?” asked the 
girl. 

No, she don’t, and she never saw it neither !” 
affirmed J arvis. 

‘‘ Does Lady Trevor know that I am here ?” 
inquired Cecil, trying to understand her terrible 
situation. 

“ No, she don’t. We don’t know no Lady Trevor. 
We never saw her. We’re working for another 
party, we are !” 

Cecil’s little hands clasped each other in an uncon- 
trollable agitation. 

“ And that party is secretly my enemy ?” she 
asked, in a trembling voice. 

“ You’ve hit it, Miss !” 

“ But there must be some mistake — some awful 
mistake !” cried Cecil. I am a stranger in Eng- 


3 ^ 


Cecil Rosse. 


land. I have no enemies. I never harmed a person 
in my life. Who could wish to kill me ? It is mon- 
strous — incredible ! I will not believe it. Tell me 
that you were not speaking seriously, Mr. Jarvis. 
Tell me that it is all a dream or phantasy. Why, I 
have lived here months and found you all kind and 
respectful to me. Could you have been harboring 
thoughts of murder in your hearts all these months ?” 

She turned her wild and anguished eyes from one 
to another of the three faces of her enemies, and 
" she shuddered at their hardness and savage cruelty. 

“ We won’t argufy. Miss,’' said Jarvis. The facts 
is as you know. You’re in the way of some one as 
sent you here, and has paid liberal to have you kept 
here.” 

“ And who is it wants me dead !” asked Cecil, her 
young voice having an unwonted sharpness, her 
young face thrust forward further into the flaring 
light. “ Who is my enemy 

“ Some questions can’t be answered, and that is 
one on ’em,” answered Jarvis. 

Cecil was silent for some minutes, seeming stupe- 
fied. The whole matter seemed to her unreal and 
utterly incredible. She could scarcely believe the 
assertions of Jarvis. Whom had she ever harmed 
or wronged ? Why should any one ever wish her 
dead ? The more she thought upon the matter 
the more it seemed to her that she had been mis- 
taken for some one else. 

Presently she urged this conviction upon Jarvis, 
but he shook his head, declaring with an oath that 
he had made no mistake. 



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Imprisonment 


33 


It’s you — Miss Cecil Rosse, of Germany — as I’m 
ordered to keep here, and no one else,” he said. 

It was Lady Trevor’s friend, or business agent, 
Mr. Pulford, that put me on board the yacht,” said 
Cecil, reflectively. Is it he who seeks my death?” 

‘‘Mistaken again. You can’t pump me. Miss, of 
things I don’t wish to tell,” declared Jarvis. 
“ There’s folks as have kep’ their eyes on you 
longer’n you’ll ever know of — folks as hate you and 
want you dead. They pays liberal, and folks as 
pays liberal always get their will. Your embroidery 
work has all been a blind, as has passed away your 
winter, and so have served its purpose. You’ve 
come to Black Rock, but you’ll never leave it alive.” 

Old Gretchen renewed her expressions of grief, 
moaning loudly, and wringing her hands in despair. 

Cecil forgot her own peril in pity for her servant. 

“At least, Gretchen is in no one’s way,” she 
exclaimed. “ No one demands her life. Do what 
you will with me, since I am helpless in your hands, 
but let her go.” 

“ To warn the police, eh ? You must think me a 
simple,” sneered Jarvis. “ She ‘thinks such an un- 
common lot of you. Miss, as makes me wish to send 
her along of you to the other world. The fate of 
one of. you is to be the fate of the other.” 

“ I won’t accept my freedom unless Miss Cecil can 
be free too,” cried the old peasant woman. “ I am 
old and ignorant. I deserve to die for advising 
my young .mistress to leave London. She owes all 
this trouble to me. Kill me, Mr. Jarvis, and let her 
go free. She is so young, so good, so — ” 


34 


Cecil Rosse, 


“ And she’ll die if you can be saved,” cried Jarvis, 
again sneering. ‘‘ I knows my business. You think 
so much of each other you shall die together. I 
sha’n’t spare neither of you.” 

“ That’s the talk,” said Mrs. Jarvis, approvingly. 
“You’ve wasted too much time in palavering, 
Jarvis. The gal has found out the whole thing. 
She ought to die this very night !” 

“ Yes, both ought to die to-night !” declared Jarvis. 

“ Oh, mercy, mercy !” moaned Gretchen, sink- 
ing upon her knees, her gray hair becoming 
unloosed and falling to her shoulders, scant, short 
and witch-like in its effect. “ Spare my poor young 
mistress, who never hurt a living creature ! In the 
name of the great God, who will one day judge you, 
if yon commit this awful crime, do not harm her !” 

Jarvis and his wife laughed brutally. 

“Hush, Gretchen!” said her young mistress, 
sweetly and softly, in a low, calm voice, her face 
looking as might look the face of an angel. “ Let 
us pray to God, and not to people like these. God 
has not abandoned us !” 

Again Jarvis and his wife laughed coarsely. 

“ Prayers won’t help you none !” said the latter. 
“ But if they’d be any comfort to you, be at ’em 
quick. Your time’s ’bout up !” 

Old Gretchen covered her face with her apron 
and moaned and sobbed in her despair. 

But Cecil’s fearless eyes, dusky as night itself, 
with a golden glimmer in their depths like a yel- 
low star, remained calm and unflinching. Some- 
thing in that steadfast gaze made the ruffian Jarvis 


Imprisonment, 


35 


strangely uncomfortable. Something in that pale, 
calm face, so tender, so sweet, so undismayed, 
affrighted him. 

“ You’d better be at your work, Jarvis,” said his 
wife, catching the infection of his embarrassment 
and endeavoring to conquer it. Now is your time. 
You’re not going to turn faint-hearted, eh ?” 

Jarvis moved mechanically to the wide hearth 
and picked up one of the big brass andirons. As he 
moved heavily, with this weapon, towards Miss Rosse, 
the Portuguese woman hastily interposed. 

She had been silent for som.e minutes, but 
intensely watchful. She was very superstitious, and 
she had watched the progress of the scene with 
gloomy eyes. Now, as Jarvis, with his devilish 
intent expressed in looks and attitude, moved toward 
Cecil, the Portuguese woman sprang forward and 
caught his arm, crying out : 

Stop ! You shall not kill her to-night ! I will 
not have her killed to-night !” z 

Jarvis turned upon his confederate in amazement. 
What do you mean ?” he demanded. Are you 
going back on your bargain ?” 

“ No. I’m with you, heart and soul, and you know 
it. The gal’s death is as necessary to me as to you. 
If she lives, I shall have to stay here in this awful 
solitude years, perhaps, when I yearn for my own 
country and independence and the marriage on 
which I’ve set my heart. I want her to die — ” 

Then why do you interfere with me when I’m 
about to put her out of the way ?” 

Because,” said Maria, slowly, ‘‘we’ve got to stay 


36 


Cecil Rosse, 


here weeks yet. The snow lies many feet deep in 
the mountain passes. We are storm-bound and 
cannot get away under a month. Yet I will not 
stop a night here after they are dead. They’d ha’nt 
us, sure as fate. They’d come back to us in the dark 
nights and frighten us out of our senses !” 

Coward !’^ sneered Jarvis. 

Call me coward, if you will, but let ’em live 
until we are ready to quit this place,” cried Maria. 
‘‘We can destroy their lives the night before we 
leave Black Rock. And in the meantime we can 
keep them prisoners in the tower-chambers. They 
will be quite safe — as safe as if they were already 
dead.” 

The Portuguese woman had aroused the supersti- 
tious fears of Mrs. Jarvis, who hastily exclaimed : 

“ I agree with Maria, Jarvis. Let’s act on her 
advice. Miss Rosse and Gretchen are already the 
same as dead. You can finish ’em off at any time.’* 

Jarvis was not slow to yield to these combined 
entreaties. It was one thing to destroy a life secretly, 
and another to commit a murder in cold blood, with 
a pair of steadfast, haunting eyes fixed upon him. 

“ We’ll wait,” he said, dropping the andiron heavily 
to the stone floor. “ There a’n’t no hurry. They 
can’t escape. They’re as good as dead now, and we 
can put the finishing touch whenever we please. 
There a’n’t a house as I knows on within fifty miles, 
and no one ever comes to Black Rock. They’re as 
safe as if they was in their graves.” 

“ Let us take them up to their rooms,” suggested 


Imprisonment. 


37 


Ts. Jarvis. I can’t abear the look of them eyes, 
right a candle, Maria.” 

The Portuguese woman obeyed. 

Jarvis demanded the key and unlocked the door 
eading into the hall. Then seizing Miss Rosse by 
jjtte arm in a fierce gripe, he hurried her out into the 
;barrow stone passage. Old Gretchen followed vol- 
ifuntarily. She would have followed her young mis- 
itress to death rather than survive her. Mrs. Jarvis 
and Maria brought up the rear, the latter bearing 
^the light. 

^ The little procession wound through the long, 
dark, draughty halls. The gusts of wind more than 
pnce nearly extinguished the light. Little piles of 
snow lay near the door- ways, having whirled in 
under the doors, and lay on the stone stairs, having 
filtered in at the leaks and crevices in the old roof. 
A long wail or shriek of the storm, as it tore down 
the cavernous chimneys now and then, made Maria 
cross herself instinctively, with unconscious recol- 
lection of religious forms in which she had been 
reared, and muttered a prayer to be saved from 
wandering ghosts. 

They mounted the second flight of stairs, which was 
rickety and seemed to rock in the storm, and ar- 
rived at the third story rooms of the quaint old tower. 

J arvis kicked open the door of the tapestry-room 
with one of his feet, and thrust in his prisoner. 
Gretchen sprang after her with a cry of mingled 
misery and relief. And the three savage-looking 
jailers halted upon the threshold, surveying them 
with cruel exultation. 


38 Cecil Rosse, 


You can have these two rooms as before, Miss,’ , 
said Jarvis. “ OnJy we’ll keep the keys. Jes 1 
remember as you’re a prisoner and conduct yoursel 
according. If you attempt to signal any boats a; 
may pass up or down the coast, but which is mos 
unlikely at this season, with the March storms -i 
raging, that signal ’ll be the signal for your death 
Understand that ! I ain’t a patient man. I won’ii, 
stand no nonsense !” 

He withdrew the key to the outer side of the lock 
and abruptly closed the door and secured it. The j 
operation was repeated upon the door of the second I 
room and the three conspirators descended the stain i 
heavily, retreating to their own quartei*s in the 
lower part of the house, there to discuss the events 
of the evening and to plan their intended double 
crime. 

As the sound of their lumbering footsteps died 
away upon the stone stairs, Cecil Rosse crossed the 
floor to one of the windows, pulled aside the thick 
damask curtain, and looked out again into the 
night, with its white, whirling gloom, its howling 
winds, and the roar of its angry, furious sea. 

Old Gretchen looked about her drearily, at the 
little supper-table, the low chair before the hearth, 
and the big hearty fire of blazing logs. 

“ How everything is changed during the last 
hour !” the old peasant woman exclaimed with a 
groan. Here’s the table and the supper, just as 
we left it — it is we who are changed ! Oh, Miss 
Cecil, I could almost think we’d been dreaming ! 
Why should any one wish to kill you, whose whole 


39 


Imprisonment. 


life has been a blessing to others? Yon were the 
^(jight and glory of the Herr Pastor’s life ; the vil- 
tilagers of Zorlitz almost worshiped you for your 
^taxe and kindness to them in sorrow and sickness ; 
ti^ou are good and lovely — why should any one harm 
'you ? Who could wish to kill you ?” 

Cecil turned her face towards her old servant. 
There were bistre shadows under the lovely dusky 
eyes, a strange pallor upon the young cheeks and 
about the tender mouth, but the expression upon 
the beautiful countenance was brave, undismayed, 
and deeply thoughtful. 

I “Gretchen,” said the girl, quietly, ‘‘I believe that 
I there has been some mistake made in my identity — 
that I have been brought here in mistake for some 
other poor unfortunate — or that this plot against 
my life is a part of the mystery that has enshrouded 
my origin and surrounded me from the night when 
I, a child of three years, a mere baby, was brought 
to Zorlitz parsonage.” Gretchen stared. 

‘‘ There has been no mistake. Miss Cecil,” she 
exclaimed, excitedly, after a brief thoughtfulness. 

Did you not hear them say so — that they had 
been hired to destroy Miss Cecil Rosse, of Ger- 
many ?” 

“ I think that there has been no mistake,” declared 
Cecil, calmly. “ The person who had me immured 
in this solitary place, in this wild northern climate, 
remote from all mankind, had knowledge of me 
personally and of my tastes and capabilities. That 
person knew of my bargain with Lady Trevor, and 
had prepared for me this moth-eaten tapestry on 


40 Cecil Rosse. j 

- , 

which I have spent so many months of useless toil 
It is clear, therefore, that my enemy is one who ii 1 
connected with the mystery of my life.’* 

‘‘ But who can it be ?” 

You could identify the man who brought me t( 
Zorlitz parsonage, Gretchen ?” 

I could swear to him anywhere by the squint oi | 
his eyes, and the heavy mole on his left cheek, and 
by his general features,” affirmed Gretchen. 

Have you seen any person who resembled him 
since we came to England ? Was Mr. Pulford like 
him ?” j 

‘‘No, Miss Cecil. I have never seen his cruel] 
face since that night. Mr. Pulford is as unlike him ' 
as one man can be unlike another.” 

“ Lady Trevor cannot hate me,” said Cecil, 
wearily and sorrowfully. “ Lord Glenham loves 
her. Even if she knew that he had been kind to 
me and won my heart, she could not possibly care, 
since she holds his troth. He must love her or he 
would not marry her. She cannot be my enemy. 
She is a lady, gently-bred, refined and high princi- 
pled, a true Christian lady, I believe, else Lord 
Glenham could not love her. I am sure that she is 
innocent of any knowledge of this horrible plot 
against me.” 

“ I am sure of that too. She was very kind to us,” 
said simple old Gretchen. “ A bad, wicked woman 
could not smile and talk so kindly and sweetly as 
she did. Depend upon it. Miss Cecil, Lady Trevor 
is innocent of all wrong-doing in this matter.” 

“ Then whom shall I suspect ? Mr. Pulford ?” 


Imprisonment, 


41 


t; Gretchen shook her head. She preferred to think 
liliss Rosse’s enemy some unknown person rather 
:han one who had seemed kind to her. 

Depend upon it, Miss Cecil,’' she exclaimed, 

^ your enemy is the man who brought you to Zor- 
itz. He watched you go to Lady Trevor’s house, 
Ittd watched your drive to the yacht. And after Mr. 
Pulford had given his directions to the captain of 
;he yacht, this unknown enemy of yours secretly 
conspired with the captain, and had you brought to 
this place. I am sure that this is the tru^ explan a- 
ition of the mystery.” 

It may be so,” replied her young mistress. I 
do not know enough of the ways of wicked people 
to suggest a better explanation. We are in the 
hands of some cruel and remorseless foe, of whom 
these people below are but the tools to carry out 
their master’s will. My enemy seeks your death as 
v/ell as mine. Where are we, Gretchen, do you 
think ? Where is this Black Rock ?” . 

But Gretchen could not return an answer that 
appeared to border on probability. 

We are many days sail from London,” said Cecil. 
“ The story that we had been driven from our course 
by bad weather was but a false pretence of the 
treacherous captain. The bleak, wild scenery, the 
driving storms, deep snows, and utter dreariness 
and coldness, show that we are in the far north, but 
whether in Norway, or Iceland, or Scotland, I can- 
not tell. One thing only I know — ” 

And that is — ” 

That we must make some effort to escape ! To 


42 


Cecil Rosse. 


remain here imprisoned, counting the days and 
nights of the single month of life these people allot 
us, will drive us mad. I’d rather fall from yondei 
precipice out there in the darkness, or freeze to 
death in the mountain-passes, than await here our 
coming doom !” 

And so would I. But how can we escape ? We j 
shall be closely watched and guarded. Our enemies | 
may drug us into quiet passiveness. And though 
they decided to let us live a month longer, they 
may change their minds and kill us to-morrow. 
They will aim to destroy us when we are off our 
guard. Oh, Miss Cecil,” cried the old woman, des- 
pairingly, there is no escape for us ! We are 
doomed !** 



CHAPTER IV. 


^ THE END DRAWS NEAR. 

I Old Gretchen flung herself upon a couch and 
raved and wept and sobbed in her agony of despair. 
But Cecil stood at her window, white and silent, 

I with grave, incredulous eyes, and troubled, anxious 
mouth, intent upon the problem of escape. 

I To remain passively awaiting death at the hands 
of hQ;r enemies would be worse than to brave the 
most horrible fate in the attempt to escape. A 
month of such waiting would be an eternity to both 
the intended victims. And yet escape, in the present 
state of the weather, would be an impossibility. 

“ I must wait,** Cecil said to herself. ‘‘ I must be 
brave and calm and patient. God will not desert 
us in our extremity. I will trust Him, even unto 
the end.** 

Raising her anguished eyes, striving in vain to 
pierce the thick gloom of the wild night, Cecil 
breathed a prayer to Heaven for protection in this 
hour of need, and then, calmed and strengthened, 
she turned front the casement and approached her 
old servant. 


[43] 


44 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ Come, Gretchen,'* she said, gently. Yon must 
not give way like this. We are reprieved for a 
month. What may not happen during that period ? 
Calm yourself. Rise, and let us talk the matter 
over.*' 

Gretchen obeyed, wiping her face upon her apron, 
and striving to assume an appearance of self-corn- j 
mand. 

Come, sit down by me near the fire,** said her 
young mistress, drawing two chairs near together. 

We must talk over our plans of escape. If we | 
wish God to help us, we must help ourselves !** | 

Gretchen took the seat assigned her. And so, j 
while the three wicked plotters laid their evil plans 
in the rude, stone-floored kitchen below, the two 
innocent victims of their hatred discussed in the high 
tower-chamber plans of evasion and self-defence. 

If we intend to get away alive from this house, 
we shall need all our strength,** said Gretchen, after 
a long consultation, in which no decision had been 
arrived at. ‘‘ You look like a spirit, Miss Cecil ; 
your face is so white and your eyes burning. Eat 
your supper, dear, to please old Gretchen, and then 
you won't loose your strength.*' 

She arose and brought her young mistress* plate 
and cup. Both food and drink were cold, but Cecil 
ate and drank, and her example was followed by 
her servant. 

They sat up until late. Then, wearied and worn j 
by their terrible experiences and emotions, they 
prepared to go to bed. Cecil resolved on a barricade 
against a surreptitious night-entrance by their 


The End Draws Near. 


45 


enemies, and assisted Gretchen to place certain 
massive pieces of furniture against the doors, in a 
manner to prevent intrusion. 

Our enemies, having determined to murder us, 
will execute their project at a time when we least 
expect harm,'' said Miss Rosse. “ One thing is sure 
— they shall not enter our rooms when we are 
asleep." 

Gretchen assisted her young mistress to undress, 
and retired to an inner closet, where her own bed 
had been placed, while Cecil said her prayers. 

Neither of the pair kept long awake, but slum- 
bered as peacefully as if their couches had been 
guarded by a host of armed friends. 

Both awakened soon after daybreak. Gretchen 
made her toilet and emerged from her closet to 
find her young mistress fully dressed and shivering 
with cold, the fires having died down to ashes 
tiours before. 

“ Let us remove the barricades, Gretchen," said 
Cecil, cheerfully, although her lips were blue and 
her teeth chattered. 

“ Do you think they intend to freeze us to death. 
Miss Cecil ?" asked Gretchen, in a frightened 
whisper. “ There's a mortal chill in the air that 
makes my very bones ache. You, who are so deli- 
cate, how will 5^ou endure this cold ?" 

Cecil smiled brightly, but made no other answer, 
as she helped remove the barricades they had 
placed the night before. 

Old Gretchen brought a heavy shawl and threw 
it about Miss Rosse’s shoulders, and began to walk 


46 


Cecil Rosse, 


heavily to and fro, while Cecil took up her favorite 
station at one of the windows. 

The snow had ceased falling. The sea was cov- 
ered with restless white caps. The sun was hidden 
behind leaden-hued clouds. Such portions of Black 
Rock as had been heretofore visible from the tower 
windows were covered with a thick snow. No sail 
was on the sea, no sign of life upon the shore. A 
wilder and more desolate Northern scene could not 
have been imagined. All was hard and grim and 
terrible, with a fierce, chill wind sweeping over it, 
that would have blasted any green and living thing 
it might have found. 

The key rattled in the door. Cecil turned about 
with a start. Old Gretchen halted in her walk, with 
an expression of alarm. 

The door opened, and Mr. Jarvis entered, with an 
armful of logs, followed by his wife with a pan of 
blazing coals and a basket of pine cones and light^ 
split wood. Maria kept guard at the door. 

By the look of relief that came upon the faces of 
the prisoners Mrs. Jarvis read their recent fears. 

We didn’t intend to freeze you to death,” she 
said, ‘‘ though that might be the easiest way out of 
the difficulty, only that we want to keep you alive 
until we get ready to leave the place ourselves.” 

“ Will the yacht come for you ?” asked Cecil, try- 
ing to speak carelessly. 

No, we shall travel by the mountain passes. 
There are three or four rough Highland ponies in 
the stable, and a good wagon, the same that brought 


The End Draws Near, 


47 


tis here,” replied Mrs. Jarvis, dumping her coals on 
the hearth, and arranging the wood upon them. 

“ And there’s a couple of good blood-hounds in the 
kennels,” remarked Mr. Jarvis, placing his back-log 
and fore-log in proper position. I begs to remind 
you of them. Miss Rosse, in case you are planning 
to get the ponies and escape.” 

The fire was soon made, and the intruders with- 
drew, carefully locking the door behind them. 

Gretchen swept up the hearth, cleared the table> 
looped b^ck the window curtains and let in the gray 
and cheerless light of day. 

By the time the chamber began to wear a warm 
and cosy look, Maria reappeared with' a breakfast 
tray, Jarvis keeping watch at the door. 

Miss Rosse ate her breakfast without fear of being 
poisoned, and Gretchen shared the meal. 

When the tray had been removed and the prison- 
ers were left to themselves, Cecil began to walk the 
floor for exercise. 

Shall you finish the embroidery to-day, Miss 
Cecil ?” asked the old servant, doubtfully. 

No, Gretchen. The work was planned to keep 
me here a willing prisoner. I will not touch it 
again !” 

Then what will you do ? You’ll die if you remain 
shut up here, doing nothing.” 

This house is very old,” said Cecil, thoughtfully. 

The roof leaks, the stairs are weak and rickety. It 
may have been built two or three hundred years.” 

I am sure of it.” 

‘‘ It has seen troublesome days — times of war, per- 


48 


Cecil Rosse. 


haps/’ continued Cecil. I have read stories of 
ancient houses with secret staircases and hidden 
rooms. It might be, Gretchen, that this house con- 
tained some secret chamber.” 

“ If it did, we should not be able to find it. Don’t 
let your head be turned with romantic notions. Miss 
Cecil. We’re bad enough off as we are !” 

We can at least investigate these walls, Gretchen,” 
said her young mistress, with a show of reviving 
hope and courage. Let us try it now. We can 
lose nothing. We may gain something.” 

Despite old Gretchen’s remonstrances, Cecil began 
to tap the walls under the hanging tapestry with the 
fire-tongs. No hollow sound re-echoed from the 
damp, chill stones, covered over with wet and broken 
plaster. The old servant, continuing her remon- 
strances, presently joined in Cecil’s task. The walls 
were thoroughly examined with a patience that 
deserved success, but only failure resulted. 

“ It is just as I thought !” muttered the old woman. 
“ Who ever had such a wild notion, begging your 
pardon. Miss Cecil ?” 

. The notion does not seem wild to me,” responded 
Miss Rosse, wearily. I have read that it was the 
custom in very old times to build secret rooms in all 
great houses. Such hidden nooks were needed then, 
for there were bands of robbers bent on plunder 
roaming through Germany, there were feudal wars 
in Scotland and England, and — ” 

“ But w’e may be in Norway, Miss Cecil. And if 
there should possibly be a secret room in this house, 


The End Draws Near, 


49 


it would not be in this tower. No such luck for us,” 
grumbled old Gretchen. 

It was now noon. The two desisted from their 
labors, and just in time, for Maria brought up a tray- 
laden with dinner. The meal was prepared with the 
care Mrs. Jarvis had always displayed, and was 
tempting in quality, profuse in quantity, as usual. 
Maria's manner was respectful, as heretofore, and 
she laid the table with care, and spread out the 
viands to the best advantage, speaking only when 
addressed. 

Cecil might have believed the experiences of the 
preceding night a dream, or the illusion of an un- 
balanced mind, but for the sinister face of Jarvis at 
the door, and the sight of the key in the outside of 
the lock. 

The Portuguese woman retired, and Miss Rosse 
ate her dinner. The mountain-eyrie evidently con- 
tained a well-stocked larder. There was roast 
venison, besides broiled birds on toast, and mutton- 
cutlets with a peculiarly wild flavor. The game 
had been killed on the estate and preserved out of 
doors by freezing. There was coffee, too, and vari- 
ous other delicacies. 

They don’t mean to starve us !” commented 
Gretchen. As long as they don’t attempt to freeze 
or starve us to death. Miss Cecil, I shan’t utterly 
despair. If they’ll give us a quick and painless 
death, it is all I can dare to hope for !” 

After dinner, when Maria had removed the tray, 
and Jarvis had replenished the fire, Cecil and 
Gretchen extended their investigations to the walls 


50 


Cecil Rosse. 


of the inner-room. They spent the entire afternoon 
in their explorations, and it was not until the last 
inch of wall had been sounded and failure was deci- 
sive that poor young Cecil knew how much she had 
builded upon her strange fancy — ^how much she had 
expected to find some secret inner room. 

They returned to the outer room and Cecil flung 
herself upon a couch. Maria brought up lights and 
supper, and Jarvis replenished the fire for the 
night. 

When the young mistress and her servant were 
alone together, Cecil read aloud a few chapters in 
her little German Bible, and they talked awhile in 
low tones, and then retired to bed. 

This day was a sample of many days that followed. 
The sun was hidden for days together. The sea 
was lashed to fury by the March winds. The snow 
remained on the ground a full fortnight, receiving 
constant additions, before it began to melt. April 
came, not the sunny, fitful, fickle April of more 
southern climes, but a stern, cold and windy month, 
with snows instead of rains, and without one sign of 
springing vegetation. It was simply a continuation 
of the long and terrible winter. 

April gave place at last to May. The winds 
became milder. The snows yet lingered in the 
mountain-passes and on the mountain-tops, but the 
impatience of Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis and their confed- 
erate had increased to vSuch an extent that they 
resolved to remain no longer at Black Rock, pre- 
ferring to brave bad weather and bad roads rather 
than longer endure this Northern solitude. 


The End Draws Near. 


SI 


Some deadly significance in the looks or manner 
of her jailers warned Cecil that the end was near. 

Maria brought up a bountiful dinner one day, 
early in May, ^as usual. There was a sinister ex- 
pression in the eyes of the Portuguese woman that 
struck a chill to Cecil's heart. The woman with- 
drew, descending to the kitchen. 

“I've taken up her last dinner !" she exclaimed, 
“ I'm bound to leave here immediately. The girl 
must die to-night." 

“I agree with you, Maria," said Jarvis, with an 
oath. “ I'm sick and tired of this blasted place. 
The girl and her servant must die to-night. The 
hour is come !" 



CHAPTER V. 

A TERRIBLE NIGHT. 

The man Jarvis entered at once upon his prepara- 
tions for the dread tragedy he and his confederates 
had so long contemplated. He went out to the 
stone stable and gave each of his ponies a liberal 
measure of oats, their fare during the winter having 
^ been principally hay, which he had cut and cured 
himself during the preceding autumn. He got out 
his stout old wagon, cleaned and dusted it, greased 
its wheels, and examined it in every part, testing 
its strength for the ordeal before it. 

Then, returning to the fresh air, he surveyed the 
sky with a critical gaze. 

“ Looks as though there was more snow coming, 
he muttered. “But I’m sick and tired of Black 
Rock, and the women are set on going — we’ll have 
to risk it. The ponies are in good condition. As 
we go south’ard, stands to reason we’ll find better 
weather. It’s May now, and the roads, so far as I 
can see, is tol’ble. The fever of going is in our 
blood, and nothing’ll squench it but to go. Wish 
we had a yacht to go in. We’ll make for a fishin' 
[52] 



A Terrible Night. 


53 


village I know on, fifty miles down the coast, and 
hire a boat there to take us south ’ard. I think we 
can safely begin the journey to-night, or rather in 
the morning before day-break.’' 

He chewed the end of a straw leisurely while he 
walked up and down the stable-yard, with its small 
rick of hay and its stone-flagged pavement. 

“We won’t get rid of the young lady and her 
servant,” he said to himself, “ till towards morning. 
They’ll be asleep then and onsuspecting. We’ll 
open the door and creep in like mice, and one blow 
on each, and the whole thing’ll be settled. We’ll 
pitch the bodies over the precipice into the sea, and 
there’s an end on ’em. I’ll pack the wagon. It’ll 
take all day to prepare for the journey.” 

He went into his out-door larder, and took there- 
from some venison hams, a variety of game birds, 
a haunch of wild mutton, and two pork-hams, and 
carried them into the great kitchen. 

The woods and fields of the estate of Black Rock 
were filled with game. The sheep and swine, of 
choicest breeds, that had once been so highly 
esteemed •by their owner, now ran wild. Deer were 
plentiful, and birds abounded in every nook and 
covert. A variety of wild cattle was also numerous, 
and the inmates of Black Rock House had fared 
sumptuously throughout the long winter. 

Jarvis laid down his stores upon the long, deal 
table, and called his wife’s attention to them. 

“ Better get them over the fire at once,” he said. 
“ Have plenty of bread. Maria can help you, while 
I pack the wagon.” 


54 


Cecil Rosse. 


He carried out a couple of mattresses and laid 
them in the bottom of the covered vehicle. A pile 
of blankets followed, then two boxes filled with 
clothing and personal effects. A kettle was swung 
under the vehicle, also two buckets for water, and 
several bags of provender for the horses. 

Jarvis then loaded his firearms and deposited 
them upon hooks high up against the sides of the 
wagon. 

By the time these and other preparations had 
been completed night was falling. The man took a 
final survey of the sky for the night and entered the 
kitchen. 

A great display of cooked edibles was spread out 
upon the table, and their savory smell filled the air. 
In addition to the boiled and roasted viands there 
was a huge venison pasty, a couple of savory pies, a 
great supply of buttered bread, carefully wrapped 
in linen cloths and placed in stone jars, some jars of 
Dundee marmalade and English jams and jellies, 
and finally, a keg of Scotch whiskey and a demijohn 
of brandy. 

These final items appealed most strongly to 
Jarvis* sense of luxury. 

The food was packed in hampers, with knives and 
dishes, and transported to the wagon. The liquors 
were carried thither also, and lovingly secured 
against disaster. 

And now we*re ready,’* said Jarvis, returning to 
his confederates. “We want to dress warm. The 
weather is sure to be freezing cold.” 


A Terrible Night, 


55 


'‘How about the dogs?’' asked Mrs. Jarvis. 
"What shall you do with them ?” 

" I have tied them under the wagon,” was the 
response. " We are all ready to start, except that 
I have yet to harness the ponies and put them to 
the wagon. That must be done the last thing 
before our final visit up-stairs.” 

A supper was prepared for the prisoners, and 
Maria, as usual, attended by Jarvis, carried it up to 
the tower chamber. 

Miss Rosse was seated by the hearth when the 
Portuguese woman entered. The girl’s swift, keen 
glance searched the dark and sinister visage. In 
spite of her stolidity, Maria could not conceal a 
certain nervousness and uneasiness that possessed 
her. She dropped her eyes, and her dark cheek 
flushed, and she moved about with unusual awk- 
wardness, as she laid the table and spread upon it 
the dishes she had brought. » 

" Supper is served, Miss,” she said at last, moving 
toward the door. 

At the threshold vshe half -paused, and Cecil caught 
her final glance, which was dark and strange and 
terribly significant — a glance in which for one single 
instant the secret wickedness of the woman’s soul, 
her awful purpose, was made visible. There was a 
deadly triumph in that look, something of pity, yet 
withal a stern relentlessness, an exulting avarice, a 
gloating, evil joy, such as Cecil had never seen 
before upon her features. 

The girl shuddered and bent nearer the fire, shad- 
ing her blanching face with one shaking hand. 


56 


Cecil Rosse. 


Maria went out and secured the door, unconscious 
of the revelation in her final gaze, and returned with 
Jarvis to the kitchen. 

For some moments Cecil sat motionless. At last 
she raised her head, and called softly, in a voice that 
was singularly calm ; 

Gretchen !'* 

The old servant came from the opposite side of 
the room. 

^‘What is it. Miss Cecil?’' she asked, in alarm. 

How white you look ! Are you ill ?” 

“ Did you see that woman’s face when she went 
out ?” 

Gretchen replied wonderingly in the negative. 

It confirms our wildest suspicions of this noon. 
It was strange and terrible. Gretchen, we were 
right. Our enemies have exhausted their patience. 
They mean to kill us to-night.” 

“ Then what are we to do ? Has God forsaken 
us ?” cried the old peasant woman. Oh, Miss Cecil, 
must we die here like birds in a trap ?” 

She looked around her wildly, as if with some 
vague hope of escape, and then realizing their help- 
lessness, old Gretchen sank down upon a sofa, 
covered her head with her apron, and sobbed aloud. 

Cecil sat very quietly for some time, thinking 
deeply. Now that the hour of death seemed so near, 
a new courage dawned within the girl’s soul. Her 
long captivity had told upon her ; her young face 
was wan and thin ; her eyes burning ; her slender 
frame was more slender than ever, looking as if a 
gust of wind would blow it away ; but the young 


A Terrible Night. 


57 


heart was brave and resolute, and terror had 
brought the energy of desperation rather than the 
torpor of despair. 

“ Do not give way like this, Gretchen,’' said the 
girl, quietly. “ A few hours yet remain to us. They 
intend to creep in upon us while we sleep. At the 
worst we will sell our lives dearly. Let us eat our 
supper, and then I will tell you of a plan I have.” 

Gretchen complied. They ate their supper. 
After Maria had removed the tray as usual and 
departed. Miss Rosse paced the floor with slow and 
troubled step and thoughtful face. Presently she 
went to one of the windows and looked out. 

The night was chilly with a pale gloom upon 
shore and sea. The roar of the waves as they beat 
upon the rocks filled the air. The wind was blowing 
fresh from the west, damp and chill, with a salty 
flavor. The descent from the third story of the 
tower was so far as to render Cecil giddy as she 
looked down. 

“We must lower ourselves to the ground, 
Gretchen,” she said, drawing in her head. “ We 
can manufacture a rope — ” 

“ But if we get down they will hunt us with the 
dogs !” 

“ Let us do what we can and trust the rest to 
Providence. I’d rather die down there in the open 
air than up here in a prison. We have no time to 
lose. Come, Gretchen !” 

The girl hurried into the bedroom and brought 
forth a quantity of bed-clothing. Sheets and 
blankets were cut into long strips and braided into 


58 


Cecil Rosse. 


a firm rope. Gretchen brought her own bed- 
clothes, but still the rope was far too short for its 
intended purpose. Cecil climbed upon her high 
sewing-chair and tore down the tapestry from the 
walls, filling the room with dust. Selecting the 
strongest portions of the hangings, she succeeded in 
forming a rope long enough for her requirements. 
Knotting this at intervals, she secured one end to 
the massive, high, four-post bedstead in the inner 
room, and lowered the other end out of one of the 
bedroom* windows to the rock beneath. 

‘‘ We can never go down such a ladder,'’ cried 
Gretchen. We should miss our hold and fall to 
the rocks below. Or we should be dashed against 
the wall of the tower. “ Oh, Miss Cecil, your plan 
is not practicable !” 

“ At any rate I shall try it !” returned her young 
mistress. ‘‘ I’d rather be dashed to pieces on the 
rocks than wait here to be murdered. It is growing 
late. How long it has taken us to make our rope ! 
We have no time to lose. Let us dress at once. 
Put on the thickest clothes you have, Gretchen.” 

She hastened to set the example. Her worn, 
black cashmere gown was exchanged for a walking- 
suit of Scotch wincey, one of her latest purchases in 
London. She put on high, thick walking boots, 
and drew over them a pair of Gretchen’s thick- 
knitted yarn stockings. A knitted jacket envel- 
oped her form, and over this she drew on her long, 
thick -wadded cloak, the close sleeves of which pro- 
tected her wrists. A muffler was added about her 
neck, and heavy gloves covered her hands. Finally, 


A Terrible Night, 


59 


she put on her close-fitting fur cap and wound a 
second muffier about her waist, in readiness to tie 
over her ears when its protection should be 
required. 

“ I am ready !’* she announced, after ascertaining 
that her pocket-book, with its contents, was safely 
bestowed upon her person. “ And you, Gretchen 
I am ready, too,” replied the old woman, who 
had equipped herself similarly with mufflers, 
cloak, and two pairs of heavy knitted stockings. 

But ready for what ? Where are we going. Miss 
Cecil ?” 

The young mistress could not answer. She 
looked at her watch. The hour was close upon mid- 
night. She fastened open the casement and went 
into the outer room and extinguished the light of the 
two candles. Then she returned to the bedchamber, 
locking the door of communication between the 
two rooms. 

The fire was burning low in the bedroom hearth. 
Cecil, with a sudden inspiration, knelt down before 
it, and looked up into the cavernous chimney. 

If we could only hide up there while they, 
thinking us escaped by the window, look for us on 
the rocks below !” she thought. “ Is there no 
chance .? No possibility ?” 

She scanned the yawning opening for some sign 
of a friendly ledge, but none appeared. She seized 
the long iron shovel and plunged it against the 
sides of the chimney, raking down a cloud of dust 
and soot. 

Suddenly her shovel struck a slight projection 


6o 


Cecil Rosse. 


that gave back a ringing, metallic sound. She beat 
the chimney-side with several resounding knocks, 
and a minute later one side of the chimney, com- 
prising a section of brickwork some two feet wide 
by four deep, swung inward like a door upon hinges, 
revealing a closet behind it. 

The fire-light shone into this recess, and Cecil’s 
exploring gaze discovered that it was some six feet 
square and as high as the bedchamber. It had 
evidently been built with the chimney as a reposi- 
tory of valuables, rather than as a hiding-place for 
human beings. 

Cecil’s cry brought Gretchen to her side. 

“ See, Gretchen,” exclaimed the young girl, 
excitedly. We can hide in there while our 
enemies think us escaped by the ladder and search 
for us below.” 

“ But it’s too hot. We shall roast alive !” 

Cecil gathered up her skirts and stepped quickly 
over the corner of the burning logs and entered the 
recess. It was warm within when she had nearly 
closed the door, but the heat was not in tolerable. 
The air had already been changed, and Cecil 
believed that it would be possible for two persons 
to remain there for several minutes without danger 
of suffocation. 

She saw that the brick work had been built 
against and secured with rods and rivets to a mas- 
sive iron door. The intricacies of the spring lock 
she could not solve. 

We shall have to leave the door open a minute 
crack,” she said, but that will not be detected. 


A Terrible Night. 


6i 


We must be very careful not to close the door, 
Gretchen, remember. Our lives depend upon our 
caution in that respect."' 

She emerged from the recess, and Gretchen took 
her place. 

When we hear our enemies at the door, we will 
hide in the chimney-closet,” said Cecil, extinguish- 
ing the lights. We have nothing now to do but to 
wait.” 

They listened breathlessly for the sound of 
stealthy steps upon the stairs. 

Meanwhile the conspirators had finished their 
preparations, clothed themselves in their thickest 
garments in readiness for flight, and were sitting 
about the kitchen fire, gathering up their evil 
courage for the work they had planned. 

They had all been drinking heavily, to drown any 
possible qualm of conscience, and to prepare them- 
selves for their wicked task. Jarvis now sat 
stupidly before the hearth, while Maria dozed in 
her chair, and Mrs. Jarvis watched the hands of her 
old silver watch and brooded gloomily. Even she 
caught a nap or two, a little later, but at last she 
started broad awake and sprang up, shaking her 
husband heavily by the shoulder. 

‘‘ It’s past three !” she exclaimed. It’s time we 
were moving !” 

Jarvis aroused himself, rubbed his eyes, and 
arose from his chair. Lighting a lantern that stood 
upon the high wooden dresser, he went out to the 
stable, fed his dogs and ponies, and harnessed the 
latter to the heavy, loaded wagon. It was half-past 


62 


Ceeil Rosse, 


three when he had completed these final arrange- 
ments, and led the ponies out into the stable-yard, 
opening wide the double gates. 

“ We can get off now at a moment’s notice,” he 
muttered. Now for the last job !” 

He looked up at the sky. The faint lurid streaks 
of dawn were already apparent through the midst 
of the gloom. 

In an hour it will be light,” he said to himself. 
^‘And in an hour we’ll be on our way to the 
south’ard.” 

He secured the ponies to the gate-post by a light 
strap, and then returned to the kitchen. The women 
were wide awake and astir. They had prepared a 
hot breakfast, and the three sat down to eat it. 

When they had finished they regarded each other 
with deadly significance. 

The time is come,” said the man, hoarsely. 

Give me another quartern of whiskey, old woman, 
to brace me up, and then come on.” 

He drank his portion of whiskey, the women 
drank also, and then taking up the lantern and a 
couple of bludgeons that had been prepared for the 
occasion, the sinister trio crept through the long 
halls and up the stairs to the lonely tower-chambers. 

The prisoners had watched hour after hour. 
Gretchen, in spite of her anxiety, had dozed a little 
in the early morning, but Cecil had remained near 
the door, listening until it seemed as if all her senses 
had concentrated themselves in that of hearing. 
Every creak of the ancient timbers, every move- 
ment of a rat in the thick walls, startled her. No 


A Terrible Night, 


63 


thought of sleep entered her mind. Her dusk eyes 
stared straight before her, hour after hour, all the 
long night through. 

At last, as she saw the first faint signs of dawn in 
the sky through the open window, a lurid streak 
here and there traversing the inky gloom, and 
realized that the morning was at hand, she drew a 
long sigh of exquisite relief. 

“ I must have been mistaken,” she thought. I 
have suffered imprisonment so long, and have so 
dreaded the death I saw impending, that I thought 
Maria’s strange looks foreboded the end to-night. 
We have a further respite. Thank God !” 

She raised her eyes tipward in joyful gratitude. 

But, hark ! What was that ? A creaking sound 
upon the stairs — a stealthy tread upon the floor of 
the corridor without — the sound of suppressed 
breathing at the door ! 

The girl rose to her feet, white as death, in an 
agony of fear and suspense. Her gaze met that of 
Gretchen, who had started broad awake, and who 
had risen and now stood, with wild eyes and preter- 
naturally calm visage, prepared for the worst. 

The intruders passed on to the door of the sitting- 
room. The girl’s sharpened hearing caught the 
sound of a key grating in the lock. 

She tried to whisper to her old servant, but her 
tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. Raising her 
hand in a gesture of command, she raised her skirts, 
sprang over the end of the burning fire, and hid 
herself in the chimney recess she had so strangely 
discovered. 


64 


Cecil Rosse. 


Old Gretchen followed after her like her shadow. 

The two crouched in the hot blackness, and 
waited, holding their breaths. 

Presently they heard the door of communication 
between the two rooms softly tried. Cecil had 
locked it, and it resisted the efforts of Jarvis to open 
it. Then followed a silence, after which the pris- 
oners heard a key rattling in the lock of the bedroom 
door. 

They pushed the door of their recess nearly shut. 

The next moment the bedroom door was opened 
and the three intruders, bludgeons in hand, crept 
toward the high curtained bed. 

It seemed scarcely a second afterward when a 
hoarse, wild yell rang through the room. 

“ She’s gone !” shouted Jarvis. The bed has 
not been slept in !” 

“ See the window !” cried Maria, shrilly. ** A lad- 
der, as I live !” 

“ They’ve fled !” screamed Mrs. Jarvis. “ They’ve 
outwitted us ! They’ve had a night’s start of us !” 

The three made a simultaneous rush for Gret- 
chen’s closet, and then for the open window. The 
ladder appeared to tell its own story. They hastily 
drew up a section of it, noted its length and strength, 
and the knots at frequent intervals, and then, with 
oaths and maledictions, fled precipitately from the 
room in their mad haste to search the rocks below. 

Mrs. Jarvis lingered behind the others to make a 
hasty search of the room, and then followed, leaving 
the door wide open behind her. 

‘‘ Now is our time !” whispered Cecil. 


A Terrible Night. 


65 


They crept out of their narrow hiding-place, 
crossed the floor, and glided out at the door into the 
dark, damp hall. They flitted down the stairs, 
threaded the corridors, and gained the deserted 
kitchen. 

The outer door stood wide open ; the wind 
streamed in, scattering the fire and ashes in a cloud. 
They hurried out into the yard. Their jailers had 
run to the cliffward side of the dwelling, and were 
examining the rocks in a panic. 

Cecil’s quick eyes caught sight of the open gates 
of the stable-yard and the waiting horses and 
vehicle. With the rapidity of inspiration, she ran 
into the yard, unloosed the hitching-strap, and 
climbed into the vehicle ! 

Gretchen followed her, sinking down upon the 
seat, gasping and panting for breath. 

Cecil’s dusk eyes blazed. She caught up the rude 
whip, touched up the spirited ponies, and drove 
boldly out of the stable-yard, taking instinctively to 
the grass-grown road. She knew the road well for 
a mile or more, and pushed her ponies forward at 
their best speed. 

The old wagon had half-way descended the Black 
Rock hill when Mrs Jarvis, returning with a late 
sense of caution to secure the house, and keep 
watch there over her effects, discovered the absence 
of the vehicle from the yard, and beheld it in full 
flight. 

Her frantic shrieks brought her husband and 
Maria to her aid, and the three, in a frenzy of mad- 
ness, dashed down the hill in wild pursuit. 



CHAPTER VI. 

A DECLARATION OF BETROTHAL. 

Upon the northern coast of Scotland the month 
of May had come in with ice and snow and sleet, 
and with the chill of prolonged winter. But in the 
south of England the fruit-trees were in full bloom, 
the birds in full song, and the fields and pastures 
had put on their brightest verdure. Farmers were 
at work, flowers were blooming, and nature was in 
her softest, sweetest and most tender mood. The 
fashionable world had come to London for the 
season. Parliament was in full session. Lord St. 
Leonards, who was a power in the House, was at 
his town residence in Park Lane. Lord Glenham 
and his mother were in their own house in the same 
street, and Lady Trevor was domiciled in her 
establishment in South Audley street. 

The handsome widow sat alone in her morning- 
room. Her brunette face, made up in the highest 
style of art with roseate bloom and pearl-powders, 
kohl, and the various other cosmetics known to a 
woman of the world who desires to repair the 
ravages of time and fashionable dissipation, showed 
[ 66 ] 


A Declaration of Betrothal, 67 


no trace of secret care or anxiety. No remorse from 
the tortures she had inflicted upon Cecil Rosse 
troubled her rest. She looked supremely at her 
ease, as she busied herself with writing responses to 
a handful of cards and letters of invitation, and even 
hummed a careless tune as her jeweled hand glided 
over her pink, perfumed sheets of paper, upon which 
glittered her gilded crest and monogram. 

She was thus engaged when the old Marquis of 
St. Leonards was announced. 

She arose as he entered her presence, and rushed 
towards him with an affectation of joy — a gushing 
manner that might have belonged to a school-girl. 

‘‘ I am so glad to see you, grandpapa !” she 
exclaimed. “ So delighted ! I have looked for you 
every day since my arrival last week ! I had almost 
ceased to expect you !’* 

She offered him her mouth, but the old lord pre- 
tended not to understand her. He saw through 
her affectation of affection, and gave her his hand 
gravely, responding : 

I received your note announcing your return to 
town for the season, Edith. I have been very busy 
with this railway bill in the House, and have not 
found it convenient to call before.'* 

I am glad to see you at any time and always, 
dear grandpapa ! How is your tiresome gout this 
spring ? When I saw you at St. Leonards, you were 
such a martyr.” 

‘‘ I am quite well, thank you, Edith. I have been 
in town with Glenham nearly all winter.” 

“Yes, I know,” replied Lady Trevor, seating her- 


68 


Cecil Rosse. 


self on a sofa beside the leonine old lord, and look- 
ing at him with a gaze meant to be reverential and 
affectionate. “ You were trying to find that poor 
sewing-girl, Miss Rosse. Have you found her yet, 
grandpapa V 

We have not !" was the brief response. 

I haven't seen Gordon since my return to town," 
said Lady Trevor, plaintively. L wonder if he 
intends to cut his old friends. Where is he ?" 

Working up a clew upon the Continent," replied 
the marquis. ‘‘ This clew will turn out like all the 
others, I fear," and he sighed. “Miss Rosse has 
been missing nearly seven months ! The detectives 
have given up the case, and I am inclined to de- 
spair." 

“ What a strange mystery it is !" said Lady Tre- 
vor, meditatively. “ My opinion is, that the girl is 
dead !" 

“ Then where is her servant ?" asked Lord St. 
Leonards, sharply. “ How can two persons die 
without leaving any trace of their decease ? They 
couldn't have buried themselves. I don't believe 
they are dead. I believe there is foul play some- 
where, and just so surely as I live I'll ferret out the 
truth and bring whoever is concerned in it — who- 
ever has tried to injure Miss Rosse — to a bitter and 
terrible punishment." 

The widow trembled, but her face remained placid 
and sympathetic. 

“ How deeply you are interested in the fate of 
that girl whom you saw but twice," she exclaimed. 
“ I liked her, too, but I am sure that she is dead 1" 


A Declaration of Betrothal 69 


You liked her V repeated the marquis, bitterly. 

You / If it hadn't been for your treachery to me in 
trying to get her out of my way she might have been 
safe and well in my house to-day. If she is dead, 
her death lies at your door. You knew that I 
had determined to adopt - her as my grandchild, if 
she would consent, and you conceived the idea of 
sending her off to Greycourt. I blame you, Edith, 
for much of which has happened." 

Lady Trevor put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“ I owe much of the sorrow of my life — all its ter- 
rible loneliness — to your treachery," continued the 
old lord, knitting his heavy white brows, his frosty 
blue eyes gazing sternly upon her. If you had 
but brought me my little grandchild after her 
mother’s death, as my daughter-in-law implored you 
to do, I should to-day have had Alba with me. 
Sometimes I doubt you terribly, Edith, in spite of 
all your fair protestations. Sometimes the idea will 
haunt me for nights together, keeping me wakeful 
and agonized, that you killed that innocent baby — 
that you murdered her — to inherit her wealth !" 

Grandfather !" 

The marquis shook off her hands, which she had 
put out to him, and moved farther from her. 

“ I cannot bear that name from your lips, Edith," 
he exclaimed. I was awake all last night, think- 
ing of Miss Rosse first, then of you, and my dead 
little Alba. All my doubts of you returned in full 
force. I remembered that your husband was one 
of the worst scoundrels in England. I remembered 
— but I have not come here to rehearse the old 


70 


Cecil Rosse. 


story, or to accuse you. I do not wish to know if 
you are guilty. In the day when the secrets of all 
hearts are made known, the story of little Alba's 
death will be made clear !" 

‘‘You wrong me most cruelly. Will you never 
forget your doubts of me, or do me justice ?’* cried 
Lady Trevor, apparently overcome with grief. - “ I 
am innocent of Alba's death. I could never consent 
to a murder. If Sir Albert had plotted to destroy 
the child I would have saved her. I am sorry now 
that I did not bring her at once to you after her 
mother’s death, but your agent saw her alive, and 
she is buried in your ancestral vaults. She is dead, 
grandfather, and, I repeat, I am innocent of her 
death. How can you accuse the daughter of your 
only son of an awful crime ? I am of your blood. 
In spite of my faults I am not capable of a crime. 
I swear it. Come, grandfather, dismiss your doubts 
of me. Do me justice.” 

“ We will dismiss the subject,” declared the mar- 
quis, coldly. “ I must not see you often, Edith. 
You arouse all the memories I desire buried. To 
return to Miss Rosse. I suppose that you have 
never heard from her since her disappearance V* 

“ Never. I expected to receive some apology 
from her for her breach of contract, but I have not 
done so.” 

“ I see that that man Pulford is still in your 
employ, Edith. I came here especially to speak to 
him. The rumor is rife again that you are engaged 
to marry him.” 

“ I beg that you will deny it, then. I am not 


A Declaration of BetrothaL 


71 


engaged to marry him !” said the widow, decidedly. 

Do you think that I would marry my agent whom 
I regard as my servant T' 

The marquis regarded his granddaughter keenly. 
“ I hope,’' continued Lady Trevor, with apparent 
indignation, that I know too well what is due to 
my rank and family to make a second marriage that 
would be distasteful to you, grandpapa. Besides,” 
and she affected to blush; I hope that your old 
plans for me may be yet realized. You know my 
secret, that I love Lord Glenham. When his grief 
for Miss Rosse shall have worn away, and he real- 
izes that she must be dead, perhaps your well- 
known wishes may have some effect upon him.” 

“ Humph !” muttered the old marquis. 

I know that Lady Glenham is anxious to bring 
about the match,” said the widow. She has told 
me so often and often. She has never seen Miss 
Rosse and the glamour of the girl’s beauty has 
never blinded her eyes to Miss Rosse’s adventuress 
character. The countess desires more than any- 
hing else her son’s marriage with me. That mar- 
riage will be brought about if there is anything in a 
mother’s influence, or in a steadfast love like mine.” 

Glenham can do as he pleases. I decline to use 
my influence,” said Lord St. Leonards. ‘‘ When I 
believed Miss Rosse an adventuress, I tried to save 
Glenham by a marriage with you. But now that I 
have seen Miss Rosse, and know her to be noble and 
pure, and more than worthy even of him, I should 
despise him if he were to marry you — even if he 
knew her to be dead ! My doubts of you, which, 


72 


Cecil Rosse, 


try as I will, I cannot conquer, confirm me in my 
opinion !*' 

You are complimentary/' 

I am truthful — and you are not always that, 
Edith." 

The widow's hard, black eyes sparkled with rising 
anger. 

You insult me !" she exclaimed. I am truth- 
ful — I despise a falsehood ! Do me justice, grand- 
father ! I am incapable of a lie !" 

Before the old lord could make any response, Mr. 
Pulford entered the room. 

His florid face was easy and smiling. He seemed 
thoroughly at home, and bowed pleasantly to the 
old marquis, who regarded him with savage dislike. 

We have been talking of you, Mr. Pulford," said 
his lordship, speaking with forced courtesy. 

I was telling Lady Trevor of rumors of her 
reported engagement of marriage to you, sir. May 
I ask you to contradict those reports ?" 

Mr. Pulford glanced at the widow, who made him 
a gesture commanding assent. 

I am happy to say, my lord," said Mr. Pulford, 
easily, that no contradiction is necessar}’'. Edith, 
my dear, tell the marquis that the reports are all 
true — that you have planned a little surprise for 
him — and that I shall soon be his grand-son-in-law 
and your happy husband !" 



CHAPTER VII. 

A DESPERATE MOVEMENT. 

The effect of Mr. Pulford's bland and easy declar- 
ation of his betrothal to Lady Trevor, immediately 
after the widow’s indignant denial and protestations 
to the contrary, had scarcely the effect he expected. 

Lady Trevor went into violent hysterics. 

Lord St. Leonards, after one moment’s incredu- 
lous stare, flew into a rage, denouncing his grand- 
daughter and Mr. Pulford together, declaring that 
he would not countenance any such marriage on the 
part of Lady Trevor, and that if she persisted in her 
engagement, he, the marquis, would never see her 
again. 

When the furious old lord paused in his denunci- 
ations and threatenings, to take breath, his angry 
eyes turning from one to the other of the betrothed 
pair in a gaze that might have scorched and with- 
ered persons less hardened than those whom he 
addressed. Lady Trevor’s hysteric demonstrations 
increased to such an extent as to indicate an utter 
loss of self-control. But Mr. Pulford stood calm 

[7al 


74 


Cecil Rosse, 


and unmoved, his face as impassive as that of a 
sphinx. 

You do not approve of the marriage, then, my 
lord ?” he said, very quietly, taking advantage of 
the marquis' state of breathlessness. 

‘‘ Approve ?" cried the old lord, finding breath 
again with unexpected celerity, fairly snorting in his 
wrath at Pulford*s audacity. Approve ? If Lady 
Trevor marries you, sir, I shall disown her ! Not 
one penny of my property shall she ever see ! 
Approve ? Humph !" 

Words were all too cold and meaningless to 
express his lordship's rage. His frosty old eyes 
glared. His mustached lips parted above his brist- 
ling teeth, and his breath came in snorting gasps. 
His lion-like temper was aroused. He considered 
the projected alliance as a disgrace to his name and 
house. He was enraged at Lady Trevor's lying and 
deceit. All his slumbering hatred of her, all his 
suspicions of her, which, in spite of his efforts, he 
could never really lull to sleep, conspired to inflame 
his passionate fury to the highest pitch. 

“ Calm yourself, my lord,’' said Mr. Pulford, 
coolly. Really, you will throw yourself into an 
apoplexy if you give way to such unreasoning 
anger. Possibly you forget that I am a gentleman 
of birth and education — " 

I do not care for your birth and education !" 
cried the marquis. It is enough for me that you 
were the bosom friend of Sir Albert Trevor, one of 
the worst scoundrels of his day. You aided and 
abetted him in his dissolute practices, although 


A Desperate Movement. 


"IS 


your cooler blood and lesser fortune did not permit 
you to share in them. You constituted yourself 
chief adviser and business agent to his widow, and 
now you tell me that she has agreed to marry you. A 
few minutes before she declared herself incapable of 
falsehood and solemnly assured me that she was not 
engaged to marry you. It strikes me that, morally, 
you are well worthy of each other. If this marriage 
takes place, I beg to decline the honor of your 
wife’s acquaintance, sir. Lady Trevor, if you have 
any further explanations to make to me, you can 
make them by letter!” 

The marquis took up his hat and moved towards 
the door. 

The widow, half frantic at the turn aifairs had 
taken, made a gesture to the marquis to remain, 
while she looked imploringly at her hated suitor. 

Leave the room, Pulford !” she said, beseech- 
ingly, in a hurried under-tone. “ You will ruin 
everything. Leave grandpapa to me I” 

Mr. Pulford smiled sardonically, but made no 
movement to obey. 

One moment, my lord,” he said, suavely, detain- 
ing the marquis at the very door. “ Edith, my dar- 
ling, can you not plead with grandpapa to forgive us 
and look kindly upon us ? Tell him how you love 
me, dearest — ” 

Lady Trevor uttered a faint scream, covered her 
ears with her hands, and thrust her head into the 
depths of the sofa-pillow. 

Lord St. Leonards, with a wild snort of rage too 


76 


Cecil Rosse, 


deep for words, abruptly quitted the room and the 
house, violently slamming the doors behind him. 

Mr. Pulford again smiled and began walking the 
floor with his hands in his pockets, whistling a 
tune. 

The widow indulged in a renewed burst of hys- 
terics. When her emotion had spent its force, she 
struggled to a sitting position, angry and' sullen, 
with inflamed visage, and hard black eyes glittering 
with evil passions, as unlovely an object, perhaps 
as a lover's eyes ever rested upon. 

Mr. Pulford, however, delighted in his power 
over her. He stopped short before her, exclaim- 
ing : 

If you are ready to be reasonable at last, my 
dear Edith, I should like from you some sort of 
explanation of this very singular scene 

Lady Trevor angrily beat her slippered foot upon 
the carpet. 

“ I beg to know," continued Mr. Pulford, still 
blandly, but with an authoritative air that indicated 
his intention to be master, why you denied to 
Lord St. Leonards our engagement of marriage." 

‘‘ Because," cried Lady Trevor, finding voice at 
last, “ because you and I agreed that our engage- 
ment should be secret. You have seen the effect of 
your announcement upon him. He will never leave 
me a penny." 

Your chances of inheriting any of his property 
had grown exceedingly slim, my dear Edith. He 
has avowed his intention of finding Miss Rosse and 
making her his heir." 


A Desperate Movement, 


77 


“ But he can’t find her. And, not finding her, he 
might leave his unentailed property to me. I have 
counted upon inheriting it, now that she is out of 
the way !” cried the widow. 

“ His unentailed property is worth five thousand 
a year — an income worth scheming for,” remarked 
Mr. Pulford, leisurely. Under ordinary circum- 
stances, I should be willing to sacrifice my own per- 
sonal feelings to obtain it. But you have a fortune 
to which that is a mere bagatelle, so to speak, and I 
do not choose to sacrifice greater advantages to 
obtain the lesser. His favor and friendship would 
be worth more to us than his money. He is a great 
statesman, a power in the land, a favorite with the 
queen, a counselor to her majesty ; in fact, one of 
the noblest and mightiest peers of Great Britain. 
His nod can open to me the best houses in England 
as his frown can close them to me. I am ambitious 
of becoming a man of society, of joining fashionable 
clubs, and of obtaining a title. All these things his 
favor would render easy to me — ” 

“ Then why did you declare our engagement to 
him ? Why did you provoke his anger and make 
such a scene ?” 

“ Because I am tired of waiting in vain — because 
he would never look favorably upon your marriage 
to me. The advantages his favor would bring could 
never be mine because his favor is unattainable. I 
am letting the substance slip from my grasp while I 
chase after shadows. We have been engaged to 
each other about eight months. It was last Septem- 
ber at Castle Cliff when I proposed to you, and you 


78 


Cecil Rosse. 


promised to marry me in a month's time, and here it 
is May, and we are not married yet." 

“ We have waited on account of the marquis — " 

‘‘ We will wait no longer, then. He is mortally 
offended, but I can live without his favor, as you and 
Sir Albert Trevor lived so many years." 

‘‘We waited also on account of that girl," said 
Lady Trevor, in a lower tone. “ I would not marry 
while I had anything to fear from her." 

“You have nothing whatever to fear from her 
now. If she isn't dead, she soon will be. I think 
you lack your usual wisdom in "deferring our mar- 
riage for any such cause, Edith. If I become your 
husband, it is to my interest to guard your name and 
fortune from any marauder, is it not ? We will not 
argue. You have put off our marriage upon excuses 
that appear to me unsound. I shall not listen to 
them longer. Our engagement shall no longer 
remain secret." 

“Mr. Pulford— " 

“ The marriage shall take place within a month ! 
By Heaven, madam, do you think I will submit to 
be cheated much longer out of my share in your 
wealth ? I have submitted to your whims this past 
winter, and have allowed our marriage to be put off 
indefinitely. You have visited country-houses, have 
flirted with marriageable men, have schemed to win 
Lord Glenham — I've seen it all ! — while I have come 
and gone as your business-agent, tolerated in good 
society because I am a gentleman and your friend, 
but only tolerated ! Now we shall change all that, 
i intend to be master in this house, where now I am 


A Desperate Movement. 


79 


a guest. I intend to enter society as your husband ; 
I intend to spend my share of your fortune ; to drive 
and ride with you in the park ; to be received as the 
equal of your lordly friends ; to sit at the foot of 
your table as the master and dispense its hospitali- 
ties ; to order your servants ; to loll in your draw- 
ing-rooms ; to live the life of a gentleman of leisure ! 
The day for your excuses and postponements is 
over ! We will be married on the first Wednes- 
day in June !’' 

He delivered his ultimatum as if it had been a 
decree of fate. 

Lady Trevor’s face grew livid. 

She had liked Pulford well enough as a servant ; 
as her betrothed husband she loathed, detested and 
hated him. She was ambitious ; the prospect of a 
marriage with him galled and humiliated her. She 
secretly loved Lord Glenham with all the fervor of 
her nature. She had by no means given up hope of 
winning the earl. Cecil Rosse forever removed from 
his path, why should not Lord Glenham consider his 
mother’s wishes and contract a marriage with the 
granddaughter of Lord St. Leonards 1 If Pulford 
persisted in his claims upon her, her love and ambi- 
tion would be alike balked. She knew that he would 
be a hard master rather than a doting husband, and 
she said to herself passionately that she would rather 
die than become his wife. 

And then all those dark and terrible schemes of 
deliverance from his power which she had con- 
sidered when at Castle Cliff, in the first days of her 
betrothal to him, recurred to her with sinister force* 


8o 


Cecil Rosse. 


She dropped her gaze, her hard eyes emitting a 
baleful light that might have betrayed the nature 
of her thoughts, and she set her full lips together in 
a hard, tense line. 

Mr. Pulford continued to regard her triumphantly. 

You know that this marriage is distasteful to 
me,*’ said Lady Trevor, in a hard, cold voice, after 
a brief pause. I do not love you — ” 

Mr. Pulford laughed sneeringly. 

The widow flushed under her powder rouge. 

“ Can I not buy off your claims ?” she asked, forc- 
ing herself to speak calmly. I will give you five 
thousand pounds a year for life, and will procure 
your entrance into society on the terms you crave — ” 

Mr. Pulford laughed again. 

The terms I crave are simply to enter society as 
Lady Trevor’s husband. Lady Edith Pulford — 
that doesn’t sound badly, eh ? Come, come, Edith, 
your reluctance to marry me is anything but flatter 
ing. I am a revengeful sort of person. I shall be 
apt to visit my displeasure upon you after our 
marriage, if you do not profess some liking for me. 
Do you want people to see that you are being 
forced into this marriage ? They are likely to 
inquire how it happens that you are in my power ^ 
Leave but a slight clew to yoUr secret loose and 
some one will seize upon it and unravel the whole 
mystery. You are safe only in your marriage with 
me.” 

Lady Trevor shuddered. 

I have appointed the marriage-day,” continued 
Air. Pulford, his face growing dark and terrible, his 


A Desperate Movement, 


8i 


eyes fixed upon her in a piercing gaze. Is it your 
intention to submit to my decree, to proclaim our 
engagement, to prepare your trousseau, and have a 
grand marriage at St. George's, Hanover Square, 
with an entire column of glowing description in the 
court newspapers ; or shall I blow your secret to 
the winds, produce the girl, and send you to a cell 
in Newgate prison ? Take your choice, and let the 
matter be settled now for once and forever." 

I choose the marriage," said Lady Trevor, 
huskily. 

“You choose wisely. By Jove! I might force 
the girl to marry me. No doubt she'd do it to 
escape her prison. I need not destroy myself, you 
see, to ruin you. But the matter is settled. We 
will go out to-day to order certain portions of your 
trousseau — such as require most time. I will go to 
Emmanuel's, and select diamonds for a bracelet, or 
other knick-knacks for you as my bridal gift. They 
will set the jewels and have them ready in time, 
and I’ll pay the bill out of your money, my dear. 
We won’t have any marriage settlements, I detest 
them. What is yours must belong unreservedly to 
me !’' 

Lady Trevor lifted her eyes and flashed a look of 
hatred upon her suitor. 

“ 1 will have marriage settlements," she exclaimed. 
“ I will never give all my money to you and be left 
dependent upon you. The money is my own — • 

“ But how obtained ?" asked Mr. Pulford, suavely. 
“ By a horrible crime, for which, if I were to 
denounce you, you would be doomed to a felon’s 


82 


Cecil Rosse. 


cell. You are a criminal, amenable to the law, 
though you recline on a silken couch in your gilded 
drawing-room, with your hair frizzled, your cheeks 
rouged, and your form covered with silken robes. 
How quickly these frescoed walls would be 
exchanged for the narrow prison cell — those 
garments for prison stripes, that chevelure for a 
cropped head, if I were but to speak.” 

You delight to torture me ! Have everything 
your own way. When the day arrives I will be 
ready. Meantime, spare me your allusions to the 
past and your threatenings.” 

It is a bargain. Learn to submit yourself to the 
inevitable with a good grace. Don't give the world 
food for scandal. If Lord St. Leonards were to get 
wind of your reluctance to marry me, he'd suspect 
the real truth. So make the best of the situation, 
my dear Edith. Order your trousseau, and remem- 
ber that our engagement is no longer to be kept 
secret.'' 

He approached and bent over her and kissed her 
forehead. 

‘‘ I'm off to spread the news,'' he said, lightly, ‘‘ to 
order your bracelet, and to procure the insertion of 
a little paragraph in the fashionable newspapers 
announcing the approaching marriage in High Life. 
‘ The die is cast,' my dear Edith ; there’s no turning- 
back now. Ta-ta, my love. I will do myself the 
honor of dining with you to-day.'' 

He made a low bow, half in mockery, and departed 
from the room, humming a tune. 

As the house-door closed behind him, the widow 


A Desperate Movement. 83 


sprang to her feet. Now the repressed passion of 
the past hour, no longer held in check by her terrors, 
leaped to her eyes and mouth, and revealed itself 
, in their quick, impetuous movements, as she began 
to walk the floor. 

“ I hate him ! I hate him !’' she muttered. ‘‘ The 
marriage shall never take place. I cannot prevent 
his announcing the engagement, but I will not marry 
him. Either he or I will die before the marriage- 
day. There is much to be done. I will make my 
preparations — but hardly such preparations as he 
desired ! But, first of all, I must arrange to see Lord 
Glenham before he hears the report. He must come 
to me immediately upon his return from the Conti- 
nent 

She sat down at her writing-table and wrote a note 
to the young earl, requesting him to call upon her 
immediately upon his return to London. She sealed 
and addressed the missive, and dispatched it to Park 
Lane by a servant. 

Then she went up-stairs to her own private 
rooms. • 

Her first act was to send away her French maid 
upon some trivial errand to a linen-draper’s shop at 
a distance of a mile or more. Then she made a 
hasty toilet of the most unobtrusive description at 
her command. She brushed her hair low on her 
forehead, flattening it, and totally changing her ap- 
pearance and expression. A short walking-costume 
of black silk, a square India shawl with black centre, 
her plainest bonnet, covered with a large, brown 
grenadine veil that was doubled over her face, 


84 


Cecil Rosse, 


rendered her unlikely to be recognized should she 
chance to meet an acquaintance. 

Her preparations completed, she took from her 
private desk, in her boudoir, a copy of a newspaper 
bearing date some months back. 

Folding the newspaper so that the inner side came 
uppermost, she turned to a report of a murder trial, 
which in its day had attracted her attention. A 
man had poisoned his wife. He had procured the 
poison of a chemist, living in an obscure street, who 
was described in the testimony as old and infirm 
and avaricious ; a man who would do anything for 
money,” and who had more than once rendered 
himself liable to the penalty of the law. 

Lady Trevor found this chemist's testimony and 
cut out his address, destroying the remainder of the 
newspaper. 

Putting the scrap in her pocket-book, she counted 
her money, of which she had over a hundred pounds 
in bank-notes and gold. Then she glided down 
stairs and out of the house, alone and on foot, to the 
surprise of the becalved and beplushed footman 
whose duty it was to wait upon the door. 

She proceeded to Regent street, signaled an 
empty passing cab, and gave the address of the 
chemist, reading it from her scrap of newspaper. 

An hour later. Lady Trevor, with a very pale face 
under her doubled veil, with her hard eyes glitter- 
ing with sinister exultation, ascended her own steps 
and let herself in at the door with a latch-key. 

She had returned home by a circuitous route to 
avoid pursuit, doubling upon her course like a hare, 


A Desperate Movement. 


85 


had managed to conceal her name and identity from 
the chemist whom she had seen, and had reason to 
believe that no one knew her errand save herself, 
and the chemist, and that no one even suspected 
her private schemes. 

Her pocket-book was empty, but she had gained 
possession of two vials, which appeared to her as 
priceless treasures. 

Now,*' she said to herself, as she glided up to 
her own rooms, “ now, Mr. Horace Pulford, I am 
mistress of the situation. Before the appointed 
marriage-day comes around, either the bride or the 
bridegroom will be dead." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 

As the stout Highland ponies moved quickly out 
of the stable-yard at Black Rock, and the crisp, 
cold, salt air blew freshly upon her, old Gretchen 
revived instantly, the instinct of flight taking posses- 
sion of her entire being. She leaned forward, 
clutching the side of the wagon, and looked back- 
ward with eager gaze. 

‘‘ They're coming ! they're coming !" she cried, 
wildly, her voice half- wailing. “ They see us, Miss 
Cecil. They'll catch us." 

Cecil set her lips together ; her dusky eyes blazed 
like burning stars. She plied the whip vigorously, 
keeping a firm hold upon the reins. The ponies 
galloped down the hill at a reckless pace ; the 
vehicle jolted against stones, tipped now and then 
into a rut or ditch threatening an overthrow, and 
dashed on 'madly, Cecil's steady hold never once 
relaxing, nor her stern courage faltering. 

They gained the foot of the hill in safety, and 
plunged into a woodland-path, into a dense gloom 
made by thick overhanging trees. 

[ 86 ] 


Among the Momitains, 


87 


Gretchen could uo longer see the pursuers, but 
she kept up her keen lookout, muttering and groan- 
ing. The dogs under the wagon bayed and howled, 
excited by the wild speed of the horses. Cecil sat 
perfectly silent, the reins in one hand, the whip in 
the other, listening intently for the sounds of pur- 
suers. 

One mile — two miles — were gone over. Then 
Cecil drew a long sigh of relief. 

How many ponies did they have, Gretchen T 
she asked, keeping the horses at a steady though 
not excessive speed. 

‘‘ Four,'' gasped the old peasant woman. 

And there are only two to the wagon. The 
others must have been in the stable . or the yard 
ready to mount or lead. They must be on our 
track." 

They will overtake us. With this heavy weight 
they will find it easy to capture us. What shall we 
do ?" 

We might cut the traces, mount these ponies, 
and get away," responded Cecil. “ But we are likely 
to repent it if we do that. We must keep to the 
wagon if possible. I have often seen firearms in the 
old kitchen. See if none of them have been put in 
the wagon. They would be high at the sides, out 
of harm’s way." 

The old woman groped about, and announced her 
discovery of firearms. 

“ I think I can use them, if necessary. I have 
seen the men at the Schutzen-fests firing their 


88 


Cecil Rosse, 


rifles, and I know how the thing is done. Do you 
hear our pursuers ?" 

No, Miss Cecil,’* replied Gretchen, after intently 
listening. 

Cecil again became silent. The ponies pressed 
on through the gloom and darkness, stumbling now 
and then, and jolting the wagon upon stones and in 
ruts. 

In the course of an hour the faint gray dawn 
became apparent, even in the forest-wilds. The 
fugitives could see the wild desolation of the 
mountain-road, the various features of the weird 
and rugged scenery, and note the terrible loneliness 
that reigned supreme over the Northern Highlands. 
There were mountain -peaks on every side, all of 
them crowned with snow. The vegetation was, 
after passing the old park and forest of the Black 
Rock estate, sparse and stunted. No living creature 
crossed their path. 

As the dawn deepened into daylight, and the cold 
became more perceptible, as they retreated from the 
sea, Gretchen began an examination of the interior 
of the wagon. She found the stores which the 
Jarvises had prepared with a view to their own 
needs and comfort, and carved slices from the 
roasted venison, brought out slices of bread and 
butter, a pot of fruit-jelly, and a jug of strong cold 
coffee. 

‘‘Here is something they intended for them- 
selves,” she remarked, depositing her treasures on 
the broad seat. “ Let us eat breakfast, Miss Cecil, 
I will drive while you eat.” 


Among the Moimtains. 


89 


Cecil put her whip in its socket, and kept a firm 
hold upon the reins while she took up the sandwich 
Gretchen had made for her. She ate it while 
driving, not for an instant relaxing her vigilance or 
permitting her ponies to slacken speed to a walk. 

It is singular that they do not show themselves,” 
said Cecil, when she had finished her meal. Some- 
thing must have happened !” 

In truth, something had happened. Mr. Jarvis 
had intended to secure the two extra ponies to the 
rear-end of the wagon, and had left them loose in the 
stable. Mrs. Jarvis, on discovering the escape of the 
prisoners, had attempted to mount one of the ponies 
thus left, and had been thrown to the floor. 

No injury had been done her, but the ponies were 
not secured, and in her haste she had left the stable- 
door open. After upsetting her, seeing the avenue 
of escape, both the ponies had gone careering into 
the stable yard, neighing for their late companions, 
had overthrown Maria, who happened in their way, 
and had then made a bold break for freedom. 

With vivid recollections of a certain pasture from 
which they had been withdrawn a day or two before, 
they set off on a gallop, and regained the wide field, 
where for more than an hour they had indulged in 
the wildest antics, defying the efforts of Jarvis to 
capture them. At the end of that period they had 
again taken to flight, and to the old road by which 
the -fugitives had fled. 

Jarvis set out on foot, of course, to capture them, 
swearing till he was hoarse, and swelling with rage 
and fury that was little short of maniacal. 


90 


Cecil Rosse. 


It was noon when he found them calmly grazing- 
in the grass-grown highway. To belabor them with 
a club was his first act. Then he mounted and 
pushed onward in wild pursuit, relieving his pent- 
up emotions with imprecations “both loud and 
deep,“ and resolving to kill both Cecil and Gretchen 
at sight. 

“ There’ll be no more foolish sentimentality,” he 
growled. “ No fears of being ha’nted, no dread of 
ghosts. A fortune like that girl a-slipping through 
my hands like this ! I wonder I ain’t raving crazy !” 

Throughout that long morning Cecil kept the 
ponies at a steady jog. At noon, when they showed 
signs of flagging, she alighted, unhooked them from 
the wagon, and permitted them - to graze in a little 
green dell by the roadside, where a njountain spring 
bubbled, and the young grass was thick. 

An hour was given to this halt. The fugitives 
ate their dinner under the trees, and kept anxious 
watch in the direction they had come. 

They put the ponies to the wagon again after due 
rest, and resumed their journey. 

The road that during the morning had threaded 
a wide valley, now ran through a dangerous moun- 
tain-pass, so narrow in places that two wagons 
could not have passed each other. 

The mountain rose steeply upon one side the path, 
upon the other a deep precipice yawned, and beyond 
that were other mountains. Even at mid-day the 
road was in deep shadow. It was crossed by 
frequent mountain torrents, spanned by insecure 


Among the Mountains. 


91 


old bridges that threatened to give way tinder the 
weight now brought to bear upon them. 

In places the path was so narrow that a sheer of 
the horses to the outer side, of biit a few feet, would 
have precipitated the fugitives into eternity. In 
other places a misstep would have been attended 
with the same fatal consequences. 

Speed was out of the question. The ponies, sure- 
footed like all of their breed, and used to such pre- 
carious footing, plodded on steadily, while Cecil and 
Gretchen kept watch in front and rear, their nerves 
strung to their utmost tension. 

For hours they marched in this terrible moun- 
tain pass, with strained vision and hearing, but the 
ponies never swerved from their course, and no 
pursuer came in sight. 

At a late hour of the afternoon they came out into 
a wide valley which stretched for miles before them 
in a comparatively level plain. There were patches 
of snow in their way, but the road was improving, 
and Cecil again compelled the ponies to jog. It was 
twilight when she turned the vehicle aside into a 
scraggy grove of stunted pines, and came to a halt 
beside a mountain stream. 

“We must stop for the night, Gretchen,*' she 
said. “ The ponies are tired. And as for us, having 
been up all the last night, we must have rest." 

Gretchen assented with many misgivings, and 
alighted from the wagon. The horses were unhar- 
nessed and tethered to trees, within easy reach of 
the noisy little stream. Cecil helped to rub them 
down. 


92 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ We must take good care of them. Our safety 
will depend upon them, Gretchen,” she observed, 
gravely. Jarvis must be on our track. He will 
overtake us by to-morrow noon, even if he has 
been delayed, or if he is compelled to rest as often 
as we.’* 

Then what are we to do ?’* 

We shall have to resume our journey in the 
morning without the wagon. The ponies are gentle. 
We must ride them. We can take food enough in a 
bag for our wants and by to-morrow night this road 
must bring us to some shepherd’s hut or some High- 
land hamlet !” 

Gretchen brought out a variety of food, the best 
the wagon contained. After supper the old woman 
filled a bag, which she improvised from a table 
cloth found in the vehicle, with choice provisions, 
and placed it where it could be taken up at an 
instant’s notice, should they be compelled to renew 
their flight in haste. 

‘‘ One ought to watch while the other sleeps, Miss 
Cecil,” said Gretchen. will watch — you look 
beat out. Your face is pale as death.” 

‘‘ But my heart is strong and my courage also,” 
replied Cecil. “ We have been free one whole day. 
I think God is surely befriending us. He will not 
suffer our enemies to overtake us and put us to 
death. But, we must watch as you say. You are 
older than I. Lie down in the wagon and sleep 
until midnight. Then I will waken you and take 
my turn at resting.” 

‘‘ But you are weaker than I,” protested old 


Among the Mountains. 93 


Gretchen. You are delicately nurtured, while I am 
only a rough serving- woman. Let me sit up and 
watch while you sleep.” 

But Cecil shook her head with pretty imperious- 
ness. 

“ You must do as I say, Gretchen,” she said, affec- 
tionately. Lie down now. I promise you I will 
take my turn.” 

Gretchen was forced to obey. She crept into 
the wagon and went to sleep, snoring heavily. 

The young girl leaned against a tree, silent and 
watchful. She was well wrapped against the cold. 
The noisy torrent was very near. The mountain 
peaks, crowned with snow, shut in around her on 
every side like a bristling wall. The wind tore 
down the valley, coming through the mountain- 
passes, keen and chill. The shadows of the night 
deepened into blackness. Only two or three stars 
could be distinguished through the dense clouds. 
It was a strange vigil, one ever to be remembered. 

Cecil’s thoughts went back over her brief history. 
The mystery of her origin seemed to her to be con- 
nected with her imprisonment at Black Rock and 
the attempt of her jailers to destroy her life. What 
could that mystery be ? Who were her unseen ene- 
mies ? Who had bribed the Jarvises and the Portu- 
guese woman to kill her ? 

She thought of Lord Glenham. His blond 
beauty, the rare charm of his manner, his nobleness 
and goodness, all were reviewed in that lonely 
silence and gloom. And the young face was turned 
up to the frowning sky, pale and sorrowful, yet full 


94 


Cecil Rosse, 


of tenderness for the lover she believed forever lost 
to her ; and Cecil prayed for him and for Lady Tre- 
vor, whom she believed that he loved, that they 
might be happy, whatever should be her own fate. 

She did not waken old Gretchen at midnight. 
But somewhere about one o'clock the old woman 
aroused herself and came forth, compelling Cecil to 
take her place. The girl did so, sleeping pro- 
foundly until daybreak. 

Then she arose. They had breakfast. A feed of 
oats was given the horses, and they resumed their 
journey. 

They had been gone three or four hours when 
Jarvis came riding up. He ^saw that they had 
halted for the night. He was hungry, and made an 
instant attack upon the stores they had left, con- 
suming an inordinate amount of whiskey. 

Securing extra stores of provisions, both food and 
drink, he pushed on after the fugitives in better 
spirits. 

They don't know the road ahead of them," he 
muttered. This second day ’ll tell on that girl. I 
shall overtake em at Devil’s Gap, if not sooner. 
They haven't the slightest chance of escape !" 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE shepherd’s HUT. 

In a long and wide valley, bright with spring 
verdure, and shut in by an undulating wall of snow- 
capped mountains, in the Northern Highlands of 
Scotland, stands a shepherd’s hut. It is rudely 
built for summer occupation, and is covered with an 
overhanging thatched roof. It has a single door, a 
big chimney, but no window, unless a small square 
opening in the wall, covered with oiled paper, may 
be so termed. 

The interior of the hut consists of one room. 
The only floor is of cobble-stones laid closely 
together. Two rude bunks attached to the wall, 
and one suspended above the other, serve as couches. 
In the blackened chimney hangs a crane from which 
swings a kettle. A small wooden cupboard serves 
as a repository for food, and is the only larder the 
hut contains. 

The accommodations of the place, it will thus be 
seen, are of the rudest description. The hut is a 
mere shelter against storms — a place to sleep in — 
nothing more. 

During the long Highland winters, the place was 

[95] 




96 


Cecil Rosse. 


left to the winds and snows. But when spring* 
came, and the sun’s increasing* heat unlocked the 
ice-bound streams, and the grass sprang up anew, 
it was always occupied. 

The valley belonged to a Scottish laird who lived 
many miles to the southward. In May of every 
year he sent his flocks to this lonely spot in charge 
of two shepherds, who watched them during the 
long summers, and drove them back to their winter 
quarters in the autumn. 

These shepherds had just arrived. The flocks 
were already scattered through the valley, grazing 
on the tender young grass. The hour was twilight. 
The elder shepherd, a big, brawny fellow in a kilt, 
with legs upon which the muscles stood out like 
whipcords, lighted his pipe and went out to look 
after the young lambs, and to vSee that none of his 
flock had strayed into the mountain-passes. 

His companion sat down at the door of the hut, 
just outside, and smoked a pipe also. He had not 
the other’s muscle or intelligence. His face had a 
vacant look ; he was stupid and thick-headed , but 
there was a dogged ness in his aspect that showed 
that when he had once made up his mind, whether 
right or wrong, he was not likely to change his 
opinions or purposes. 

He was surveying the landscape with half-wShut 
eyes, lazily pufflng his pipe, when he beheld two 
Highland ponies coming down the valley, along the 
overgrown track that had many years before been 
a decently kept road. 

The shepherd rubbed his eyes in amazement. 










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< 


The Shepherds Hut, 


97 


He had been in this lonely valley summer after 
summer for years, but had never seen a face there 
other than that of his shepherd comrade. He 
rubbed' his eyes, fancying himself the victim of an 
illusion. 

The ponies came nearer and nearer. He pres- 
ently detected that one was lame. His next dis- 
covery was that the riders of the ponies were 
women. 

He sprang to his feet, opening his eyes and his 
mouth in his amazement. He held his pipe in his 
hand and stood like a statue for some minutes, 
while the ponies continued to advance, their speed 
quickening as they neared the hut. 

The two horsewomen, as the reader surmises, 
were Cecil Rosse and Gretchen. 

This was the evening of the second day of their 
flight from Black Rock. They had ridden hard all 
day, halting only an hour at noon to rest and feed 
their steeds. Gretchen’s pony had slipped upon a 
rolling-stone in a wild mountain-pass during the 
afternoon and had fallen lame. This lameness had 
increased with every hour of subsequent travel. 
The roads had been bad and rough. In many places ^ 
they had been undistinguishable, and the fugitives 
feared that they had lost their way and were 
wandering in a wilderness whence they should 
not be able to escape. 

They had reached the Devil’s Gap early in the 
afternoon. This was the place at which Jarvis had 
expected to overtake them. It was a narrow pass 
between two mountains. The road was barely six 


Cecil Rosse, 


98 


feet in width, and was bordered on one side for half 
its distance by a deep gully, cut sharply and cleanly 
between the mountains by an ancient mountain 
torrent that had now dwindled to a brook. 

The terrors of this pass kept the two fugitives 
dumb. They dismounted, afraid to trust to their 
ponies, and led the beasts for a distance of two 
miles, up a steep ascent and down again upon the 
opposite side. The Gap was gloomy beyond descrip- 
tion, and even the ponies breathed more freely when 
it was left behind. 

Towards nightfall, when wearied and anxious, 
they began to think of camping out for the night, 
they entered the valley we have described. Miss 
Rosse was the first to see the flocks of sheep. The 
sight of them kindled hope in the fugitives’ breasts. 
Where domestic animals were, men were likely to 
be also. They hurried on, and soon afterward 
caught sight of the lonely hut. 

“We are safe now. Miss Cecil !” cried the old 
serving woman, in a transport of joy. “ I had 
begun to think that we were lost, and should perish 
in the cold to-night. But God has watched over us, 
and brought us to a safe refuge.” 

Gretchen’s withered old face quivered in every 
feature. What her terrors had been were shown 
by the tremulous lips and tearful eyes at sight of 
the little valley hut. 

They hurried forward, the steeds seeming to 
understand and share in their joy and relief. 

The shepherd was still standing, open-mouthed, 
when they came up and drew rein at his door. Cecil 


The Shephe7^ds Hut, 


99 


slipped from the back of her steed. He was quick 
to detect that she was a lady, and pulled off his cap, 
and saluted her by an awkward bow. 

Gretchen, stiff in every limb, as was her young- 
mistress, slid to the ground. The shepherd looked 
in the direction the fugitives had come in the expec- 
tation of seeing a male attendant. Not seeing one 
he fixed his bewildered gaze upon Miss Rosse. 

She stood for a moment in perfect silence, her 
heart swelling, her agitation too great to allow her 
to speak. 

She had thought herself lost. She had expected 
to camp out upon the ground all night. She had 
been haunted by fears of being overtaken by her 
enemies. But here was shelter. Here was surely 
help. She trembled so that she could scarcely 
stand, and leaned against her tired steed for sup- 
port. 

Will you give us shelter for the night T she 
asked, her low, sweet voice quivering. ‘^We are 
very tired, having traveled all day.'’ 

‘‘Ye can stop here, an’ ye wull,” responded the 
shepherd, glancing doubtfully over his shoulder at 
the rude interior of the hut. “ But it’s not a place 
for the like o’ you, leddy.” 

“We shall be grateful for any shelter,” replied 
Cecil, her brightening glance giving emphasis to her 
words. 

“ Coom in, then,” was the prompt response. 
“ The beasts ’ll stand. They have na the strength 
to get away the night. Coom in, leddy.” 

He backed into the cabin. The fugitives followed 


TOO 


Cecil Rosse. 


him. He flung a handful of pine cones and 
branches on the low fire, and a fragrant warmth 
and brightness filled the bare chamber. 

Cecil and Gretchen sat down upon two wooden 
stools before the hearth, and held their hands to the 
delicious blaze. 

The shepherd continued to regard the pair with 
wonder and surprise. 

That one was mistress and the other servant was 
apparent to him. But what were they doing in this 
lonely region unattended ! He began to be sus- 
picious of them — the appearance of two women in 
that remote valley being utterly unprecedented. 

Gretchen looked about her anxiously at the 
unplastered walls and unmitigated poverty of the 
place. She was unable to determine in her own 
mind what manner of people, lived in such utter 
barrenness as this. Even the beasts at Zorlitz were 
better housed. She looked in vain for some signs 
of a woman's presence, and then fixed her regards 
upon her host, wondering of what nationality he 
was. 

Where are we ?" she asked, in English, giving 
expression to her curiosity. 

The shepherd stared ; the folly of such a question 
made him suspect her sanity. 

“ Why, dinna ye see ?” he asked. “ Speer about 
ye, woman. Ye're in a shepherd’s hut, that’s where, 
ye are !” 

“ Ah !” exclaimed Gretchen, comprehending him 
although his words had not the soft flow that 


The Shepherds Hut, 


lOI 


belongs to English tongues. But where is it — 
this hut T 

The shepherd's surprise increased. 

“ Dinna ye know the Benmar valley ?” he de- 
manded. 

“ This is the Benmar valley, then ?" said old 
Gretchen. ‘‘ But what country is it .? Are we in 
England, or Norway, or Sweden, or Iceland T 

The shepherd turned his puzzled gaze from the 
old peasant woman to Miss Rosse. The young lady 
was listening intently, with an eagerness that 
showed that she, too, awaited his reply with 
anxiety. Her dusk)^ eyes were fixed upon his stolid, 
vacant face with a look that indicated a keen sus- 
pense. 

“ Lor' bless and save us !” thought the shepherd. 

God be gude to us. These are two fules that don’t 
know the country they be in !” 

He made a prudent, partial retreat towards the 
door. 

“ Are you not going to answer ?" demanded 
Gretchen, with increasing anxiety. “ What country 
is this ?" 

“ It's Scotland !” was the reply, as the host leaned 
against the inner door-post. If ye’re here, how 
happens ye didn’t know that ?" 

“What part of Scotland is it?” asked Gretchen, 
paying no heed to his question. 

“ The Hielan's, of course. Do you see mountains 
like these in the Lowlan's ? Are ye daft, woman ? 
Sure, your mistress knows all this,” and he turned 
his gaze upon Cecil, 


102 


Cecil Rosse, 


The girl did not answer, but her looks and her 
silence were sufficient negative even to this dull- 
witted questioner. 

Our ignorance of our whereabouts must seem 
strange to you,’' said Cecil, noticing his looks of sus- 
picion and general uneasiness. “ We supposed that 
we were in Yorkshire, until very recently — York- 
shire in England. We were brought up the coast 
in a yacht and landed at a lonely old house where 
we have spent the winter.’* 

“ The servants in charge of the house were our 
enemies,” exclaimed Gretchen. ‘‘ They tried to kill 
us. We succeeded in making our escape yesterday 
morning before daybreak, and have ridden hard 
ever since. Our enemies are in pursuit of us. 
They mean to kill us both. They may arrive at 
any moment. Will you protect my young mistress 
and save her ?’* pleaded the old woman, earnestly. 

The Highlander did not reply. In his own mind 
he deemed the “ foreign woman ** decidedly “ un- 
canny.” He regarded Cecil questioningly. 

“ My servant has given you an outline of the 
truth,” said Cecil, with a calm and gentle dignity 
that ought to have convinced him of her perfect 
sanity. 1 have a secret enemy who caused us both 
to be brought to this coast, when we supposed that 
we were on our way to Yorkshire. The servants at 
the house from which we have just escaped, were in 
the pay of that enemy. They sought to murder us 
in our beds, but we escaped. They are in pursuit ; 
they are sure to arrive here to-night in search of us. 


The Shepherds Hut, 


103 


Will you not befriend and protect us ? Surely, you 
would not deliver us up to be killed !” 

The shepherd scratched his sandy head, and 
vainly wished for his comrade’s return. 

It’s a strange story, a vera strange story,” he 
commented. I dinna think I ever heerd the like 
afore. Murders and them things dinna belong to 
the Hielan’s. Where was the house where you lived 
the winter ?” 

It was called Black Rock — ” 

** Black Rock ? The house of the lost Cathcairns ! 
I ken the place. And you have been in that 
house ?” 

“ We have spent the winter there.” 

The shepherd looked incredulous. He did not 
believe the assertion. 

“ The old house is ha’nted !” heexclaimed. “ For 
fifty years no human being has been inside its 
doors. It is cursed. The blood of the murdered 
laird stains its flures. The twin brithers walk the 
halls and chambers, and spectral lights are seen in 
the windows. No one would sleep in Black Rock 
House for a king’s throne. An’ ye say ye’ve spent 
the winter there ?” 

We have,” declared Gretchen, stoutly. 

Ye must be mistaken. I dinna think it possi- 
ble !” declared the shepherd, still incredulous. 

“ You have not answered me,” said Gretchen. 
“You have not promised to protect us.” 

“ No one shall kill ye, be sure o’ that. Make 
yourselves comfortable, while I attend to the 
ponies,” was the reply. “ Are ye hungry ?” 


104 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ We have food/’ answered the serving woman. 

I will bring it in.” 

The bag had been removed from the pony’s back 
and placed on the ground beside the door. Gret- 
chen brought it in and the fugitives ate their supper, 
while their host made a pretence of looking after 
their steeds, and kept up an impatient watch for the 
return of his comrade. 

The shepherd had no faith whatever in the story 
he had heard. He did not believe that a person 
existed who would dare spend a winter in Black 
Rock House. All his superstitions were against 
such credence. He did not understand his visitors. 
Consequently, being ignorant, he distrusted them. 

He waited outside until Cecil came out and stood 
beside him, looking anxiously in the direction she 
had come. 

“ Ye look beat, leddy,” he said, respectfully. 

‘‘ Ye’ll better turn into one o’ them bunks and go to 
sleep. Ye can fasten the door to suit yersel, and I’ll 
watch outside. I expect my comrade back soon, 
and we’ll let no harm happen ye.” 

Cecil raised her trusting eyes to his in gratitude. 
She put out her little white hand, which he seized 
and looked at as if it were a curiosity presented 
for his examination, and then dropped it as if it had 
burned him. 

May God reward you for your kindness to two 
friendless creatures!” said the girl, softly. ‘‘We 
will go to bed and to sleep, trusting in your promise 
to protect us. Good-night.” 

She went inside and closed the door. 


The Shepherds Hut, 


105 


“ They can’t help bein’ fules,” mused the host, 
touched by her beauty and sweetness into more 
consideration than he had before displayed. ‘‘ She’s 
a pretty fule, anyhow. To think she didn’t know 
that this was Scotland ! She must be clean daft !” 

He resumed his smoking. In the course of an 
hour his comrade returned, and the story was 
rehearsed to him, with such additions and embellish- 
ments as the circumstances seemed to warrant. 

We’ll hae to sleep outside,” said the new-comer, 
whose name was Sandy. From what you say, 
Wully, it seems that the two women are daft. If 
anybody is after ’em, it’s because they need lookin’ 
after. I dinna believe in murders in these times, 
nor in any canny person living at Black Rock House. 
Happen, it isn’t safe to leave the two women-crea- 
tures in the hut. They may burn it afore mornin’, 
but we’ll take luck as it comes. I wad I hae a 
blanket to wrap mysel frae the cauld. Haeing 
nane except my plaidie, I maun keep awak* the 
night !” 

This melancholy reflection occupied their atten- 
tion for some minutes. Then they resumed their 
low discourse, keeping warm by walking to and fro 
and clapping their arms lustily. 

Meanwhile, Cecil and Gretchen said their prayers 
and crept into the hard bunks and went to sleep. 
Their bones ached in ever}’’ joint ; they were 
thoroughly exhausted, and not even these anxieties 
could ward off slumber. 

The shepherds watched outside, and talked, and 
found it hard work to keep awake. Both were doz- 


io6 


Cecil Rosse. 


ing- about midnight when they were aroused by the 
sound of hoofs close at hand. 

Starting up, they found themselves confronted by 
Jarvis. 

The man had been drinking heavily throughout 
the day, but was now apparently sober. His anger 
against his escaped prisoners was all alive, however, 
under his plausible exterior, and his resolve to kill 
the two fugitives at the earliest practicable moment 
was stronger than ever. 

Good-evening, sirs,’* said Jarvis, politely, draw- 
ing rein, but not alighting. ‘‘ Have you seen any- 
thing of two women traveling alone ? By Heaven, 
there are the ponies now ! The women are here !*’ 

He sprang lightly to the ground, bristling with 
excitement. 

“ There are two women-creatures here,*’ responded 
Sandy, with true Scotch caution,” but if they be the 
ones ye seek we dinna ken.” 

“They are the same. I recognize the ponies. 
One of them is an old foreign servant- woman. The 
other is a girl — ” 

“ A pretty bit lassie, with eyes like clouds with 
the sun shinin’ through ’em,” said “ Wully.” 

“ The same ! I’ve been on their track these two 
days. Thank fortune I’ve found ’em. Have a 
drop, sir ?” 

He brought forth from an inner pocket of his 
heavy overcoat a long black bottle half filled with 
Scotch whiskey, and offered it to the two men. 
They accepted the courtesy, drinking copiously. 
Under the warmth of the fiery liquid, their caution 


The Shepherds Hut, 


107 


and reserve fled. Their distrust of the fugitives 
inspired them with zeal for the pursuer. Jarvis 
tossed down a draught when they had finished, and 
restored the bottle to its previous receptacle. 

“About the women,’' he said. “You’ve given 
up the hut to them, I see, while you took the^ out- 
side. That’s kind of you. I suppose they are 
asleep? I’m anxious to get hold of ’em. I suppose 
they told a queer story, eh ?” 

“Ay, they did,” said “Wully.” “They talked 
like twa fules. 1 never heerd the like, mon.” 

“ We concluded they was daft,” said Sandy. 

Jarvis was quick enough to seize upon the word 
and the idea it contained. 

“ Daft,” he repeated. “ That’s jest what they 
are — as crazy as two Bedlamites. They escaped 
from me — I keep a mad-house, you know — and they 
are dangerous — I am Dr. Graham — I demand you to 
surrender them, in the name of the law.” 

The two Highlanders were impressed. 

“ Is your mad ’us at Black Rock ?” inquired Sandy. 

“ Black Rock ?” echoed Jarvis, pretending horror. 
“ I should hope not. I have a sanitary retreat at 
Incledon. They came from there.” 

Incledon was a small hamlet on the coast fifty 
miles distant from Black Rock. The shepherds 
looked at each other significantly. 

“ I knew that no one would bide at Black Rock 
over night,” said “Wully.” “I knew the twa 
women-creatures were clean daft. And ye’re their 
keeper ? And they escaped frae ye ? I kenned 
they wouldn’t be wandering around alone without a 


Cecil Rosse, 


io8 


man with 'em if all was right. I am glad ye found 
'em. They’d a froze or starved to death amang the 
mountains in a day or two. Their stories were alto- 
gether too curious to be true. I didn’t believe in 
’em for one minute," and he drew himself up 
importantly, pluming himself on his worldly wisdom. 

‘‘ I shall have to halt to-night anyhow," said 
Jarvis. “My beast is tired out, and I need rest. 
And in the morning you'll surrender my patients to 
me, eh ?" 

“ Certainly," replied Sandy. “ In the morning 
the two puir creatures shall be given up to you. 
Do you take us for heathen, that we’d let them 
escape to perish amang the hills ? They may say 
what they will, puir, daft things. We'll see that 
they go back with ye," 



CHAPTER X. 


A FAILURE. 

A day or two after the scene in Lady Trevor’s 
drawing-room, in which the handsome widow had 
found herself at such disadvantage between Lord 
St. Leonards on the one hand, and Mr. Pulford on 
the other, the Earl of Glenham returned to London 
from his trip to the Continent. 

As the marquis had said. Lord Glenham had gone 
abroad upon a false clew, like very many others 
they had before pursued. His lordship returned 
disheartened and well-nigh discouraged, and pro- 
ceeded directly to his town house, where his mother 
waited and watched, with ceaseless anxiety, for his 
coming. 

He let himself in at the hall door, and ascended 
to her private sitting-room. 

The countess sat alone, a book on her knee, her 
eyes turned towards the window in an absent, unsee- 
ing gaze. She was thin and worn ; the proud and 
haughty old face wore a very sorrowful expression. 
She grieved incessantly over the unfortunate attach- 
ment of her son for one whom she honestly believed 
an adventuress, and whom she scorned for the 

[109] 


I lO 


Cecil Rosse. 


mystery of her birth. She believed his life to be 
blighted. She knew well, knowing his steadfast, 
constant nature, that he would never love another 
woman with the passionate love which he gave to 
Cecil Rosse, and she feared that if he did not find 
her he would never marry. 

“ Lord Harry Ravendale married the woman he 
loved, and she wrecked his life,’’ thought the coun- 
tess. Gordon will not marry Miss Rosse, I trust, 
yet none the less will she be his ruin. If he had 
never gone to the Black Forest on that unfortunate 
hunting trip, he might to-day have been the happy 
husband of Lady Trevor.” 

She sighed heavily. Maldred Crafton had visited 
her that day, reported the failure of his own private 
efforts to find Cecil Rosse, and had borrowed a hun- 
dred pounds of her with which to prosecute his 
search. The proud lady felt humiliated in receiv- 
ing the report of her confederate. She blushed now 
in thinking how she, the earl’s mother, had per- 
suaded his trusted friend to play the traitor to him. 

It is for Gordon’s good !” she said to herself. 

If the girl is found, Maldred Crafton must and 
shall marry her. If she were in my house at this 
moment I’d give her up to Crafton to save my 
son !” 

It was at this point in her musings that the earl 
entered her presence. 

She arose to greet him, blushing like a girl. Her 
proud old eyes filled with tenderness ; she stood 
erect and stately as a palm, and stretched out her 
arms to him in welcome. 


A Failure. 


I T I 


The earl hastened to embrace her. He kissed 
her affectionately, but to the mother's jealous heart 
something of his old tenderness was lacking. He 
was troubled and pre-occupied, and she believed 
that his heart was estranged from her. 

“ What news, Gordon ?” she asked, resuming her 
seat, her lips trembling. 

No news," responded the earl, gloomily. I 
went to Munich to find that I had followed an 
English lady and her daughter. Have you no news 
for me ?" 

None whatever. There is a note on the table 
addressed to you, which was sent by Lady Trevor 
two days since. That may contain news." • 

The earl found and tore open the missive. It 
simply contained a request from the widow that he 
would call upon her immediately upon his return. 
He laid it upon his mother’s knee. 

Lady Trevor wishes to see me," he said. She 
may have received news. I will dress and go to 
her immediately. I will be back to dinner." 

He withdrew to his own apartment. The coun- 
tess rang and ordered a luncheon to be taken to him, 
and resumed her sorrowful reverie. As -soon as the 
earl had dressed, he quitted the house without again 
seeing his mother, and proceeded on foot to South 
Audley street. 

Lady Trevor’s footman announced him and ush- 
ered him into the drawing-room, where the hand- 
some widow, in becoming toilet, awaited visitors. 

She hurried to meet him, showing signs of an 
emotion which he interpreted to suit himself. 


1 12 


Cecil Rosse. 


You have neWvS of Miss Rosse?” he questioned, 
eagerly, shaking hands with her. “ Has she written 
to you. Lady Trevor, in regard to her broken 
engagement ?” 

“She has not. I have no news of her,” replied 
Lady Trevor. 

The earl’s countenance fell. 

“ I interpreted your note as indicating news of 
her,” he said, his face pale. “ I am always thinking 
of her, you know, hence my natural mistake. I 
have always been sure she would write to you 
sooner or later to explain her disappearance. No 
light, then, has been thrown upon the mystery of 
her loss during my absence ?” 

“ None whatever. Sit down, Gordon. Why do 
you persist in searching for a woman who is dead, 
or who does not care for you ? Believe me, if Miss 
Rosse loved you she would find means to communi- 
cate with you. I presume, if she lives, that she is in 
Australia or America, and that she has long since 
forgotten you.” 

“ I do not agree with you, Lady Trevor — ” 

“ It used to be Edith,” said the widow, reproach- 
fully. “ Have I forfeited your friendship, or do you 
forget that we are distantly akin ? I don’t know 
how to understand your coldness.” 

“ I did not intend to seem cold, Edith,” replied 
the earl, gravely. “We are distant cousins, and I 
can never regard you as a stranger. Your sym- 
pathy in my present troubles is very sweet to me.” 

“ Is it, Gordon ? Is it really ?” asked Lady 
Trevor, quickly. “Am I more to you than other 


A Faihire, 


1^3 


friends ? Forgive me. You cannot understand me. 
You have your troubles ; I have mine. I am only 
a weak woman— not a brave, strong man like you — 
and my troubles are sometimes too much for me. 
I wish I were dead, Gordon — I do, indeed !’' 

She buried her face in her lace-trimmed pocket- 
handkerchief, drooping her head slightly towards 
his shoulder. 

The earl moved away unconsciously. 

You surprise me, Edith,’' he exclaimed. ^^You 
unhappy ? You ? What can be the matter ?” and 
his voice was full of sympathy. ‘‘ Is there anything 
I can do for you ?” 

Lady Trevor sobbed softly. 

‘‘ Is your grief connected with Lord St. Leon- 
ards?” asked the earl. 

The widow shook her head. 

“You can’t possibly be embarrassed pecun- 
iarily ?” 

“ No — no, indeed !” 

“ Then what can it be ? Speak out, Edith. Do 
not think me so selfishly absorbed in my own 
griefs as to be oblivious of yours. If you want a 
friend you know that I would gladly serve you. 
Tell me what troubles you.” 

He took her hand in his, with genuine brotherly 
interest, full of concern for her. 

Lady Trevor hesitated. She had decided to make 
a bold effort to secure the earl for her lover. 
Knowing his nobleness and chivalry, she fancied 
that she might constrain him to become her suitor. 
But a woman, even one so hardened and scheming 


1 14 Cecil Rosse. 


as this one, does not lay aside her womanly delicacy 
without a pang, and she shrank from the course she 
had marked out for herself. 

It was only when she remembered ail that she 
had at stake that she mustered up her courage for 
her task. 

But she shivered like one about to plunge into an 
icy bath, and her voice really trembled as she 
faltered : 

I — I am in love, Gordon. There, the secret is 
out !’* 

“ In love ?” said the earl, remembering certain 
rumors he had heard before his departure. “ Not 
with Mr. Pulford, Edith 1 Is that it ? And do you 
wish me to prepare the marquis for your mar- 
riage with Pulford V 

No, no. I hate Mr. Pulford !'* cried Lady 
Trevor, petulantly. He is only my servant, al- 
though people say he is my suitor. As if I’d marry 
him !” she added, contemptuously. 

I am glad to hear that. I don’t like the man 
myself,” said the earl, seriously. He is plausible, 
but I don’t think him honest and honorable, Edith. 
And I am quite sure that the marquis would never 
have become reconciled to such a match for you. 
Who, then, since it is not Mr. Pulford, is your 
lover ?” 

I have loved him for years,” sobbed Lady 
Trevor. “ He is the noblest man in England, and 
the handsomest. I worship him — but I fear that he 
does not love me !” 

The earl looked grave and uncomfortable. But 


A Failure. 


115 


no suspicion that he was the object of the widow’s 
affections crossed his mind. 

“ I don’t think I quite understand you, Edith,” he 
said, after a brief pause. ‘‘ You are too proud a 
woman to give your love unsought — too delicate to 
confess to such a bestowal of your affections even 
in your own heart ! You mean that you are loved 
in return, but that the gentleman has not yet in so 
many words told you of his love. He is poor, per- 
haps, and too proud to address himself to one of the 
richest women in England ? Is that it ?” 

‘‘No. Despise me as you will, Gordon, I have 
given my love unsought. I dare confess it to you 
I have borne my misery until I am nearly mad. If 
the man I loved were happy, I could ‘ die and make 
no sign.’ But he is not. I see him pursuing a 
phantom when he might make me happy, and I 
might make him happy. He loves one unworthy of 
him, as far below him as a worm is below a star. 
And I watch his coming and going, and mourn for 
him, and cry at night, and wish that I were dead. 
Do not think me unwomanly — oh, Gordon, are you 
blind ?” 

Her voice rang out sharply in a real anguish that 
came from her soul. 

The earl arose, his blond face flushing to the 
temples. He could not affect to misunderstand her. 
Her meaning was plain at last. 

“ You witness my humiliation,” said Lady Trevor 
rising also, “ but you are too noble to exult in it. I 
own the truth; I dare to own it for your sake, and 
for your mother’s. The countess desires me for her 


Cecil Rosse. 


1 16 


daughter, and I love her dearly. Grandpapa desires 
our marriage. Why waste your life in lamenting 
Miss Rosse ? Gordon, I love you ! I love you ! 
Will you not accept my love and let me devote 
myself to your happiness ? Have pity on me who 
have so humbled myself, and tell me. Gordon, that 
I have not done it in vain.” 

She waited in breathless suspense his response. 
She had counted on his generosity and chivalry — 
had she counted in vain ? 

His reply sounded on her ears like a knell. 

“ Edith,” he said, in a grave, sorrowful voice, in 
which was only the tenderest pity, the kindest 
brotherly affection, “ you distress me, you wrong 
yourself. I shall never marry unless I marry Miss 
Rosse. This I must say to you in justice. I am 
sorry for what you have told me. I trust that you 
have mistaken your own heart. When you think 
the matter over you will know that I could not be 
otherwise than true to Cecil and myself.” 

He took her hand and raised it respectfully to his 
lips. 

Lady Trevor, with a great cry of despair, made a 
gesture to throw herself in his arms. He retreated 
abruptly, with an involuntary movement, reddening 
again to the roots of his blond hair. 

I must take my leave, Edith,” he said, gently. 

I desire to see Lord St. Leonards and Mr. Crafton 
this afternoon. They may have news for me.” 

He bade her adieu with a courtesy and respect 
which even her unwomanliness had not seemed to 
diminish, and took his leave. 


A Faihire, 


117 


Lady Trevor sank upon the sofa sobbing* with 
rage and despair. 

And at that moment, Mr. Pulford, who had wit- 
nessed the entire scene, emerged from the adjoining 
conservatory, saying, with a sneer, as he pinned a 
bouquet in the button-hole of his black coat : 

“ A delightful little scene, madam. So you ‘ hate * 
Pulford? You shall pay for this, my lady, when 
you are my wife. At present, permit me to say, it 
is four o’clock and the carriage is at the door, and 
we are going for a drive in the park. I will ring 
for your bonnet.’' 

He rang and ordered the maid to bring Lady 
Trevor’s bonnet and mantle. The widow would 
have rebelled and refused to accompany him, but 
there was a lurking devil in his eye that compelled 
her obedience. She entered the carriage with him 
and they drove to Hyde Park. 

“ All the world — our world — knows of our engage- 
ment, Edith,” said Mr. Pulford. “You will meet 
many well-bred sfares to-day. Be prepared for 
them. By the by, my dear Edith,” and he looked 
at her, and she saw again the lurking devil that had 
scared her ; “ don’t think 1 have forgotten the scene 
I just witnessed in your drawing-room. I shall pay 
you all I owe you, after our marriage, with interest 
a thousand-fold !” 

And Lady Trevor knew that if he obtained the 
opportunity, he would keep his word. 



CHAPTER XI. 

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

Hyde Park wore its most brilliant aspect upon 
that bright May afternoon. The fashionable world 
was sunning itself in luxurious carriages drawn by 
high-stepping horses, and attended by coachmen 
and footmen in livery. Ladies, in elegant attire, 
half reclined upon silken cushions, exchanging gay 
smiles and greetings as the two lines of carriages 
slowly passed each other. Men renowned in states- 
manship, in art, and science, and in literature, had 
their place in the gay throng. The less fortunate 
persons, who sat upon the benches lining the drive, 
or wandered by the Serpentine, watched the splendid 
parade, and made audible comment upon those who 
took part in it. 

One of the handsomest equipages displayed was 
that of Lady Trevor. 

The horses possessed both spirit and beauty. 
The carriage of mulberry color, ornamented with 
a gilded crest, was lined with tufted satin. The 
hammercloth, of mulberry color, was decorated also 
with a crest embroidered in gold thread, and the 

fiiS] 


An Old Acquaintance. 119 


pompous coachman, in livery of dark green and 
gold, who sat upon it, presented an imposing appear- 
ance. Two footmen in similar livery at the back of 
the carriage added to the dignity of the turn-out. 

My !” said a poor, consumptive-looking woman 
who sat upon one of the benches, regarding this 
equipage enviously. That lady ought to be 
happy !” 

And Lady Trevor certainly looked happy. She 
was dressed handsomely, her brunette face was at 
its brightest. She smiled and bowed as if she* had 
never known a care. No one looking at her would 
have dreamed that under that bright and gracious 
exterior were a host of evil passions in full activity ; 
no one would have dreamed that the gay hat 
covered a scheming brain — that she was angry and 
disappointed, the victim of baffled hopes, and that 
she loathed and hated with indescribable bitterness 
the man who sat smiling at her side, and whom her 
fashionable friends now knew to be her betrothed 
suitor. And no one would have dreamed that 
beneath her velvet bodice were hidden two simple 
looking vials, the contents of which were deadly 
poison, and that she carried them with her every- 
where, because she dared not leave them at home. ^ 

Mr. Pulford felt himself very important ; he 
exulted in his power oyer his unwilling bride ; he 
exulted in his prospective wealth and position ; 
he ordered the servants with the air of a master ; 
he bowed to his friends with the graciousness he 
deemed befitting the future owner of Lady Trevor's 
immense estates. 


120 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ Edith, my dear,'' he said, smilingly, bowing to 
an acquaintance, lightly lifting his hat, you see it 
is as I said. Every one knows of our intended mar- 
riage. Do you notice how people regard you ? I 
fancy many hopes are blighted because I have 
snapped up the prize for which so many were sigh- 
ing." 

“ You express yourself elegantly," remarked Lady 
Trevor. ^ People certainly do look wonderingly at 
me. I can see that they are surprised at my choice," 
she added, with a bitterness she could not conceal. 

People are always surprised at a love-match," 
remarked Mr. Pulford, blandly. “ Ah, General," 
and he raised his hat again as a carriage passed. 
“ As I was sayings Edith, our little romance attracts 
attention. I have procured the insertion of the 
notices of our approaching marriage in all the fash- 
ionable newspapers, and have selected soqie fine 
jewels to be set as a bracelet, my bridal gift to 
you." 

Which r shall have to pay for," muttered the 
widow, under her breath. 

Which I will pay for," amended Mr. Pulford, 
suavely, out of the money which I shall receive 
^ with my wife ! My money, Edith, be pleased to 
remember. There will be no marriage-settlements, 
my dear !" 

“ I hate you !" breathed Lady Trevor, in a low, 
hissing voice, too low for the ears of her footmen. 

Mr. Pulford turned his gaze upon her. A young 
lady in a passing carriage commented to her com- 
panion upon the vulgarity of engaged people making 


An Old Acquaintance, 


I2I 


love so openly in the park. Certainly, his gaze 
looked like that of a lover. He was smiling, gentle, 
and bland as the sunshine, but Lady Trevor saw 
again the lurking devil in his eyes — the baleful 
menace expressed in his look, and which sent again 
a shivering terror to her very soul. 

‘‘ My dear Edith,*' he said, softly, your pretty 
endearments are delightful to me. I shall remember 
them all and will return them with interest. 
Remember ! My darling, don't you see Lady Glen- 
ham ?" 

Lady Trevor bowed to the stately, gray-haired 
countess, who sat alone, and Mr. Pulford raised his 
hat. 

Did you fulfill my injunctions in regard to your 
shopping to-day, Edith ?" inquired Mr. Pulford, in 
the soft tones that grated on Lady Trevor’s ears and 
aroused all her animosity to him. 

Yes," she answered, a little sullenly, but with an 
evil gleam in her hard black eyes. I went shop- 
ping !" And unconsciously her gloved hand went 
to her bosom, where the vials she had bought were 
safely hidden. 

“ And I hope you ordered a magnificent trousseau, 
Edith," said Mr. Pulford, delighted to use her nam.e 
familiarly, because he knew she resented the famil- 
iarity, and hated the name as uttered by his lips. 

I want all London to talk about your gowns. You 
must send to Paris for the wedding-dress, and see 
the best milliners in London about the others. I 
will have a fashion reporter catalogue your gar- 
ments, and a description of them shall be printed in 


122 


Cecil Rosse. 


the newspapers, after the French and American 
fashion. I want the wedding talked about. I mean 
to enter fashionable life — to make my debut — in a 
full blaze of glory. 

Lady Trevor bit her lips. She could not trust 
herself to answer. 

At that moment they passed the carriage of the 
old Marquis of St. Leonards. 

The old lord, haughty and grim, his bristling 
white eyebrows and mustaches giving him tnore than 
ever a leonine look, averted his gaze from his grand- 
daughter, appearing absorbed in the contemplation 
of a restive horse in front of his own. The Earl of 
Glenham was with him. It had happened that 
when the young lord had called at St. Leonards 
House the marquis had been in the act of stepping 
into his carriage for a solitary drive. He had 
begged the earl to accompany him, and had hastened 
to tell him of Lady Trevor's latest folly in engag- 
ing herself to “ that fellow Pulford." 

As the widow now looked up, she met the grave, 
perplexed glance of the blond earl, to gain whose 
love she had so vainly humiliated herself a few 
hours earlier. She saw at a glance that he had 
heard of her engagement, and she flushed hotly. 
He raised his hat to her courteously ; she bowed ; 
and the carriages separated, proceeding in different 
directions. 

With the rememberance of that fair and haughty 
face, so noble, so handsome, vividly in her mind, 
the widow stole a look at her companion. Pulford 
looked sly, secret and ignoble ; his plausible face 


Aft Old Acquamtance. 


123 


had an expression that seemed actually mean in 
contrast to that other countenance ; his high, narrow 
forehead, and small eyes, full sandy beard, and 
florid features, appeared to Lady Trevor absolutely 
repulsive. She drew away from him in an uncon- 
trollable disgust. 

He comprehended her emotions, and added one 
more to the list of debts he owed her, and which 
he had sworn to pay. 

They rode on in silence, bearing their part in the 
great parade with smiling grace. 

A momentary halt of a carriage in front of them 
compelled them also to stand still. 

They were at the moment very near a wayside 
bench upon which two women were sitting. One of 
these, an English servant in the white cap and apron 
of a French bonne^ divided her attention between two 
or three elegantly dressed children who played 
upon the grass behind her, and the long line of 
vehicles with their occupants in front. 

The woman who sat beside the nurse was thin and 
gaunt, with a pale, sickly visage, upon which was an 
expression of sullen discontent. Her sharp features 
told a story of privation and want. Her bony, 
ungloved fingers, with roughened surface, told of 
long toil with the needle. Her dress was of worn 
black alpaca, shabby and gray with long use. Her 
bonnet was a relic of the previous winter, and her 
shawl was old and faded. Her entire appearance 
presented a sharp' contrast to that of the ladies 
whom she regarded with envying gaze ; but as she 
bore no parcel the keen-eyed park-keepers had had 


Cecil Rosse. 


1 24 


no right to forbid her entrance into this precinct of 
luxury and fashion. 

It's hard, ain't it," this woman had recently 
been saying, discontentedly, to the nurse, who was 
evidently an old acquaintance, that some can ride 
in carriages and some must go afoot ? It’s hard 
that them women, who are no better than I, should 
1 have their rich gowns, and their gay hats, and their 
servants in livery, and ride out to take the air, while 
can hardly spare the time to spend one hour here in 
the park, and I sick, too ! I shall have to sew an 
hour later to-night to make it up. I’m tired of liv- 
ing. I’m that tired I’d like to die !" 

Don't, Sarah,” said the nurse, soothingly. ‘‘ You 
have plenty of work to do — " 

‘‘ At starvation prices !" 

“ You have three children — " 

“ Who are a burden, and no help to me ! They 
are not old enough to bring in money !" 

“ Lor’, Sarah Peters, you are ungrateful to Provi- 
dence. Your three boys’ll earn money by and by, 
and support you handsomely.” 

More like they'll send me to the Union when I 
get helpless,” said Mrs. Peters, sourly. If it wasn’t 
for a hope I’ve got I would have given up long ago, 
that I would !” 

And that hope, what is it ?" 

That’s my business. I’m always looking for a 
face that yet I never see. Winter and summer I’ve 
come to the park and watched them carriages come 
and go in the hope of seeing that one face, but I’m 
always disappointed. Now I am determined to 


An Old Acquaintajice, 


125 


come day after day for a month. I may be disap- 
pointed, as I’ve always been before, but my luck 
may turn at last, and I may see the face I want. I 
should know it at a glance,” muttered Mrs. Peters, 
more to herself than to her interested companion. 

It’s years and years since I saw the face, but I’d 
know it. I know that I shall find it some time, and 
when I do I shall not know poverty again !” 

Lor’ sakes, Sarah Peters, you’ve gone out of 
your head. How can the sight of a ^ face’ make you 
rich ?” 

‘‘ You’ll see !” was the mysterious response. 

Once let me see that face, and I won’t never sew 
for slop-shops no more. I’ll change my garret for 
two nice rooms. I’ll give these clothes to a beggar, 
and put on soft stuffs and silks like these ladies 
wear, and I’ll go down to Margate for a month, and 
I’ll put the boy.s to school, and I’ll lead an easy life, 
see if I don’t. But no such luck for me,” she added, 
sullenly. The face may not be in England. I 
have no reason to suppose that it is. It may have 
mouldered under the sod years and years ago !” 

Is the face that of one of your relations, Sarah 
Peters ?” avSked the nurse, curiously. 

“ No, it ain’t. Do I look like a person to have 
relations that might ride in Hyde Park ? It’s the 
face of one that’d be no friend to me, that’d rather 
see a snake than to see me,” said Mrs. Peters. ‘‘It’s 
the face of one that’s in my power, and I can screw 
money out of its owner to keep me in comfort while 
I live. Heavens !” she ejaculated, starting and 


126 


Cecil Rosse, 


growing white, and clutching the nurse by the arm, 
“ there it is ! there it is now C 

It was at this moment that Lady Trevor’s car- 
riage had paused for a second near the bench. And 
it was at Lady Trevor’s brunette face that Sarah 
Peters was staring with wild eyes and livid coun 
tenance. 

Where ?” asked the nurse, excitedly. 

There ! The lady in the black bonnet with 
pink roses and pink feathers !” 

“ That? Is that the lady ?” cried the nurse, in 
amazement. 

The procession moved slowly on. Sarah Peters 
watched breathlessly the smiling visage of the 
handsome widow, and crouched back upon the 
bench, half behind her companion, as the hard 
black eyes glanced carelessly in her direction. 

“ The same ! It is the same !” she breathed, 
softly. I know that I am not mistaken. I have 
found her at last !** 

She sat in a sort of stupor until the carriage had 
passed on. Then she roused herself and made a 
movement to arise and follow it, but the nurse 
pulled her back by her shawl. 

“ Don’t make a fool of yourself, Sarah Peters,” 
advised the woman, roughly. “You’ll be took up 
by one of them p’liece if you speak to that lady. 
You are out of your head, or else you’re mistaken. 
That lady is one of the greatest ladies in England !” 

“You know her?” cried Mrs. Peters, turning upon 
her companion eagerly, “ Who is she ? What’s 
her name ?” 


An Old Acquaintance. 


127 


‘‘If she’s in your power, likely you know her 
name.” 

“ I don’t know it, but I will find it out. I’ll 
follow up the carriage if you don’t tell me — ” 

“ Then you’ll get arrested. You’re crazy, Sarah, 
that’s what you are. That lady is one of the richest 
ladies in England — ” 

“ Rich, is she ?” interrupted Mrs. Peters, eagerly. 
“ I’m glad of that. Her name ?” 

“ She’s the granddaughter of the great Marquis 
of St. Leonards, one of the richest noblemen in 
England, and one of the greatest statesmen,” said 
the nurse, volubly. “ I’m here in the park every 
sunny day with- the children, and I know most of 
the great people by sight. The lady is a widow, 
and her husband was a baronet ; she is Lady 
Trevor.” 

Mrs, Peters repeated her name. 

“ The gentleman with her is the one they say she 
is making a love-match with,” continued the nurse. 
“ He’s below her, but, lor’, when people loves, they 
don’t always stop to ask a fortune and a pedigree. 
It does me good to see a great proud lady like that 
fall in love with a man that’s below her !” 

“ A widow, eh ? Then her first husband’s dead ?” 
said Sarah Peters, musingly. 

“ Dead more’n a year ago. He was wild and bad, 
was Sir Albert Trevor. Her ladyship’s grandfather, 
the marquis, was against the match, and never 
spoke to Sir Albert nor to Lady Trevor after her 
marriage till she had been a year a widow,” 
explained the nurse, delighted to air her knowledge 


128 


Cecil Rosse. 


of the aristocracy. Law, I can tell yon lots about 
the great folks, Sarah Peters. I know as much 
as most, having lived in more than one titled 
family.'' 

Then perhaps you can tell me if this rich Lady 
Trevor has any children ?" 

Not one." 

She hasn't got a daughter, then ?" asked Mrs. 
Peters, disappointedly. I didn’t think it likely — * 
it could hardly have been — but then, with all her 
money, it might have lived, after all. They say that 
these big doctors can cure a'most anything.”j 

“ I don't know what you're talking about, Sarah 
Peters. I knows a girl as knows Cerise, Lady 
Trevor's own French maid, and Lady Trevor never 
had a child in her life." 

Mrs. Peters stared, perplexed. 

There's some mistake here," she exclaimed. 

She did have a child — " 

I say she didn't ! I ought to know better than 
you. Why, you didn’t know her name till I told 
you !" 

The astonishment in her companion’s face aroused 
in Mrs. Peters a sense of caution. 

‘‘ Perhaps I'm mistaken," she said, in a constrained 
voice. Likely I am. I don’t think this can be the 
same lady that I knew of. The one I knew, or 
heard of, wasn’t such a great person ; at least, she 
didn’t pretend to be." 

Mrs. Peters endeavored to turn the conversation 
and to obliterate the impression her words had 
made upon the mind of her companion. Having 


An Old Acqtmmtance, 


129 


succeeded in convincing the nurse that she had been 
mistaken, Mrs. Peters finally arose and departed, 
quitting the park. 

Once outside, she hurried swiftly to the nearest 
chemist’s shop and asked to see a London Direc- 
tory. Her request was granted, and she hastily 
turned over its leaves in search of the name of Lady 
Trevor. 

* She found it and wrote down the address upon 
a scrap of paper and hurried again into the street, 
her sickly face flushed, her manner full of sup- 
pressed excitement. 

No more work for me,” she muttered. My 
working days are over. Lady Trevor can’t refuse 
to give me something for my support — even if the 
child is dead ! I will see her this evening !” 



CHAPTER XII. 

A HIGHLAND HAMLET. 

Miss Rosse and her old servant had gone to sleep 
in the shepherds’ hut almost in the very minute 
their weary heads had touched the rude pillows. 
Their slumbers had been profound, both being 
tired to exhaustion. The sound of Gretchen’s 
breathing filled the room. It would have required 
a strong effort to awaken her, and the noise made 
by Jarvis when he rode up and loudly interrogated 
the shepherds did not arouse or disturb her. 

But Cecil, tired as she was, was awakened by that 
hostile approach. At the first utterance of Jarvis’ 
coarse voice, she started broad awake upon the 
instant. She did not move, but lay silent and breath- 
less, listening to the conversation that followed. 
And when the conversation had died out, and the 
three men sat down upon the ground to smoke 
their pipes together, still she did not stir, and still 
she hushed her breathing lest in some way she 
should betray her wakefulness. 

She comprehended that Jarvis had successfully 
imposed upon the two simple tenders of flocks 

[130] 




A Highland Hamlet, 13.1 


— that the men believed him the proprietor of a 
mad house and herself and Gretchen escaped 
patients. 

‘‘All that we can say or do will not convince them 
to the contrary/’ she thought. “ Our ignorance of 
our whereabouts made our host think us mad before 
Jarvis came. The shepherds will deliver us up to 
Jarvis, and he will kill us. Is there no escape 
• vShe kept quite silent until the smell of the 
tobacco smoke had vanished, and a later conversation 
among the three men had been followed by a deep 
silence, and later by the sound of deep and ster- 
torous breathing. 

She was quite sure that the two shepherds, used 
to very early hours, had fallen asleep. Presently, 
she crept out of her bunk like a shadow, and flitted 
to the aperture in the wall that served as a window. 
One corner of the oiled paper was loosened. She 
lifted it up and cautiously looked out. 

The night was bright with starlight. The moun- 
tain-peaks, with their snowy crests, glittered in the 
moonlight. The farther portions of the valley lay 
in the shadow of the hills, but the group near the 
hut was as plainly revealed as if it were day. 

The two shepherds had wrapped themselves in 
their plaids, which they had flung over their 
shoulders at nightfall, and so happened to have at 
hand, and were lying on the ground fast asleep. 

Jarvis was sitting up, alert and watchful. He had 
determined not to sleep, but to seize upon his prizes 
at daybreak and retreat towards the sea-coast and 
Black Rock, and he had decided in his own mind 


132 


Cecil Rosse. 


that he would not be burdened by the two women 
throughout the journey. 

The Devil’s Gap is the very place at which to get 
rid on ’em !” he v/as saying to himself, while Cecil 
regarded him. I’ll scare their ponies in the most 
dangerous spot and send ’em over the precipice into 
kingdom come. Best to wait till morning to give 
the horses a rest !” 

He looked at his ponies, which had strayed to a 
little distance, glanced at the sleeping men, and at 
the hut, yawned once or twice with sleepiness and 
weariness, and drew out his bottle of Scotch whiskey, 
raising it to his lips. He took a copious draught, 
and followed that by a second yet more liberal. 

A cold night,” he muttered. The wind comes 
down them mountain passes as if it blew over ice- 
bergs. I shall catch my death if I ain’t careful.” 

Due consideration for his valuable health prompted 
him to take yet a third potion of whiskey. Then he 
restored the bottle to his pocket and resumed his 
watch and guard over the supposed sleeping women. 

His liberal potations, added to his fatigue, were 
not conducive to wakefulness. He presently began 
to nod, starting up every few seconds to glare about 
him suspiciously. Then his head sunk forward upon 
his breast, and a little later he appeared to have 
fallen asleep. 

Cecil watched him for a little while, her active 
brain busy with plans. Neither she nor Gretchen 
had undressed. Having made up her mind to a 
course of action, the young girl crept across the 
floor again as noiselessly as possible and stood beside 


A Highland Hainlet, 133 


Gretchen's bunk. She laid one hand softly upon the 
old woman’s mouth to prevent any outcry, and with 
the other gently shook her. 

The shaking had to be repeated several times 
more and more vigorously, and Cecil had begun to 
despair of success, when the old woman yawned 
audibly and opened her eyes. 

The sight of the pale young face, illumined by 
two anxious, burning eyes, bending above her, so 
startled Gretchen that she could neither move nor 
speak. 

The soft hand pressed warningly upon her old and 
withered mouth. 

“ Hush !” whispered the girl, in her very ear. 

Not a word, Gretchen. Jarvis is here !” 

The woman started again, but did not speak. She 
trembled under Cecil’s touch, and her eyes expressed 
anxiety and terror. 

“ The shepherds mean to give us to him,” con- 
tinued the girl, calmly, still in the ear of her ser- 
vant. ‘‘Jarvis pretends that he is a mad-doctor, and 
that we are two escaped patients.” 

Old Gretchen drew her breath hard. 

“ But all is not lost !” went on the low, subtle 
whisper. “Jarvis means to take us away at day- 
break, and the shepherds have consented. But 
meantime the Highlanders have gone to sleep. And 
Jarvis himself, who meant to watch all night, has 
been drinking whiskey to keep warm and is, I think, 
overcome with drink. He has closed his eyes and 
is nodding !” 


134 


Cecil Rosse. 


A flash of hope was emitted by the old woman's 
eyes, just now despairing. 

You understand, Gretchen ? We may possibly 
escape, but if so, we must go now I' 

The old woman nodded assent. She was quite 
calm by this time, having obtained full self-posses- 
sion and self-control. Cecil removed her hand, and 
Gretchen slowly and silently gathered herself to an 
upright position, descending to the floor. 

‘‘ Shall we start now ?’* she asked. “ This 
minute ?" 

Cecil glided to the window. 

The shepherds were still fast asleep. And, in 
spite of his resolves and incentives to keep awake, 
Jarvis had yielded to the combined effects of the 
whiskey and fatigue and was sound asleep also. 

The girl returned to her companion. 

Come !" she said. ‘‘ This is our opportunity !" 

Gretchen picked up the bag, in which still 
remained a supply of food, and slung it over her 
shoulder. Cecil undid the rude and simple fasten- 
ing, and softly opened the door. It creaked upon 
its hinges. Gretchen gave up all for lost. Cecil 
listened, then drew her companion forward, and 
they stepped across the threshold. 

Had Jarvis been awake he could not have helped 
seeing the fugitives, but, fortunately for them, he 
continued to sleep. Cecil drew the door shut cau- 
tiously. She thought it possible that one of the men 
might awaken before morning, and she desired the 
discovery of her flight to be deferred to as late an 
hour as possible, 


A Highland Hamlet, 


135 


She led the way in the direction of the ponies. 
They had not been tethered, Jarvis having trusted 
to the good pasturage and their fatigue to prevent 
their straying. They were now all lying down, and 
their bridles were still upon them. 

Cecil seized the long straps and two of the ponies 
arose to their feet. Gretchen aroused the two others. 
The women mounted with some little difficulty and 
moved slowly from the vicinity of the hut, each lead- 
ing an extra horse. The one Gretchen had ridden 
the previous day seeming hopelessly lame, they let 
it go, and it lay down again upon the grass. 

Their movements had been so cautious and the 
ponies had been so quiet that the three men 
remained undisturbed. The fugitives, however, did 
not breathe freely until half a mile of distance had 
been placed between them and their enemies. Miss 
Rosse then quickened her pony’s pace to a jog, and 
they pressed onward, still in silence. 

It was not until a backward glance over her shoul- 
der assured old Gretchen that the hut was com- 
pletely lost to view that she dared trust her voice in 
speech. Then she exclaimed : 

“ Thank the Lord for this second escape ! We’re 
clear of ’em. Miss Cecil — we’re quite clear of ’em ! 
They've only the lame pony to follow us with — they 
can never overtake us !” 

“ Especially as they are not likely to waken 
before daybreak,” said Cecil, cheerfully, “and by 
that time we shall be several miles away. I don’t 
like to urge the ponies after their hard work of 
to-day, but we have no alternative. Every mile of 


136 


Cecil Rosse. 


distance now between us and our enemies is an 
additional safeguard/' 

She patted her rough Highland steed, and contin- 
ued to urge him forward. Mile after mile was tra- 
versed. They went out of the valley through a 
wild, dark mountain-pass, where the footing was 
precarious and the pathway scarcely six feet wide. 
Gretchen was heavy, and her tired beast showed 
signs of excessive fatigue. Making a mis-step, or 
slipping upon a round stone, they scarcely knew 
which, this pony went suddenly sprawling towards 
the edge of the abyss. Gretchen, with a scream, 
sprang off just in time to save herself. The pony 
went crashing down into darkness and space. 

Cecil, with her led pony, was fortunately in 
advance. She stopped in amazement at the first 
indication of trouble, and slipped to the ground and 
ran to Gretchen's side as the latter fell upon the 
ground and the unfortunate steed disappeared. 

“ Are you hurt T* she exclaimed. Speak to me, 
Gretchen — 

The old woman groaned lustily. 

Fm not hurt. Miss Cecil," she answered, *‘but 
Fm scared to death ! Oh, dear ! Oh, dear !" 

‘‘ Get up, that's a dear !'* coaxed the young girl, 
trembling with fright. “ Perhaps you have broken 
a limb ? Oh, Gretchen ! My poor Gretchen — " 

I've broken both legs, and all my arms !" cried 
Gretchen, quite overcome with the magnitude of the 
peril she had escaped, and with the sympathy of 
her frightened young mistress. ‘^And my back 
feels queer I The pony's gone over the precipice. 


A Highland H amulet. 137 


and it is a wonder I am not over also ! Oh, Miss 
Cecil, I can*t get up — ” 

Nonsense V* cried the young lady, seeing that 
the old woman needed less sympathetic treatment, 
and speaking with cheerful authority, ‘‘ Get up, 
Gretchen, that's a darling ! Come, now. I shall pull 
you up." 

She put her slender arms around the old woman, 
who yielded to the light pressure brought to bear, 
ashamed of being a dead weight upon a strength 
not too great after so many demands upon it. Once 
on her feet Gretchen shook herself, found that she 
had no bones broken, after all, and then began to 
pour forth her gratitude to Heaven in a fervent 
prayer, uttered in her native tongue. 

You must mount my led pony," said Cecil, when 
the old servant paused for sheer lack of breath. 
‘‘We are fortunate in having two animals left." 

She gave her arm to Gretchen, who limped pain- 
fully forward, exclaiming with a groan : 

“I am so fearfully bruised, Miss Cecil, that I can 
scarcely stand. How shall 1 ever ride, and without 
a saddle ?" 

“ Try, for my sake, Gretchen. We are still too 
near our enemies to halt." 

Miss Rosse helped the old woman upon the back 
of one of the ponies, herself mounted the other and 
they resumed their journey. The accident, and the 
shock it had given Gretchen’s nerves, made the old 
woman timid and nervous ; she groaned continually 
and complained of her back until her young mis- 


138 


Cecil Rosse. 


tress began to fear lest her spine had been seriously 
injured. 

If it pains you to ride we will stop, Gretchen,’’ 
said the girl, gently. ‘‘ Shall we come to a halt ?” 

‘‘No, I would rather die in flight than be killed by 
that Jarvis. We’ll keep on, Miss Cecil, although 
every time this pony sets down his foot hard, or 
stumbles, I feel as if I should die.” 

They kept on accordingly hour after hour. 
Before morning they entered a long and beautiful 
valley, through which a broad stream of water ran. 
The ponies, quite worn out, stumbled at nearly 
every step. Cecil deemed it best, in mercy to the 
beasts, to come to a halt, and the two women dis- 
mounted near the bank of the creek and turned the 
animals loose. 

Gretchen sank down upon the cold, damp grass, 
groaning heavily. 

The shadows that precede the morning were 
lying thickly over the landscape. The air was 
keener and colder than heretofore, penetrating with 
a chill to the very bones of the fugitives. Cecil 
removed her own outer garment and laid it in a roll 
under Gretchen’s head to serve as a pillow, and then 
paced to and fro to keep her blood in circulation. 
She ached in every bone and joint ; she was tired 
beyond description ; but her anxieties were too 
many and too heavy to permit her to sleep. Gretchen 
dropped into a doze, the ponies stretched themselves 
upon the grass, but she continued her faltering 
walk, her sorrowful eyes turned upward at the 
dusky sky, an unspoken prayer rising from the 


A Highland Hamlet, 


139 


depths of her young- soul to the very throne of 
Mercy above. 

The day dawned. One by one the snowy moun- 
tain peaks flushed with rose and then stood out 
upon the horizon white and gleaming. The valley 
became illuminated with the sunlight, and a slow 
warmth transfused the air. After awhile, Cecil, 
overcome with weariness, lay down upon the grass 
also and slept. 

It was high noon when she and Gretchen 
awakened. They made a breakfast from the con- 
tents of their bag. Then they walked about, the 
old woman complaining bitterly of pain in her 
spine, and severe bruises all over her person. 

It was not until the middle of the afternoon 
that they remounted, continuing their journey. 
There were no more mountain-passes to thread, but 
the path was often steep and ston)?-, and now and 
then they were obliged to ford a stream, no bridge 
presenting itself in their way. 

Late in the evening they encamped for the night. 
They made beds of pine branches and slept upon 
them tranquilly under the cold light of the stars. 
They mounted again at daybreak and rode wearily 
onward, wondering if their journey would never 
end. 

Late that afternoon they came upon a little High- 
land hamlet, a collection of shepherds* huts, in a 
beautiful valley by a flowing river. There were 
several farms scattered about, all under more or less 
cultivation, and the houses with their thatched roofs, 
and with outlying stables, barns, and ricks, pre- 


140 


Cecil Rosse, 


sented an appearance to the eyes of the fugitives at 
once wonderful and beautiful beyond description. 

Safe at last !'* cried Cecil. ‘‘ Our enemies will 
not dare attack us here, even if they overtake us.’' 

We have reached a refuge just in time," 
exclaimed Gretchen. I couldn’t travel five miles 
further to save my life. And you are tired out, 
Miss Cecil, although you don’t complain. You look 
ready to drop with fatigue." 

Cecil did not reply. In truth, she had been sus- 
tained during this last day’s journey only by her 
high courage and her resolute will. Her stock of 
strength, not too great at the beginning of her 
flight, owing to the long captivity that had pre- 
ceded it, had been drawn upon until not a vestige 
of it remained. The near prospect of safety and 
shelter nearly overwhelmed her. She trembled in 
her saddle. Her heart beat feebly and irregularly. 
Her hands could scarcely cling to her steed. 

They stopped at the nearest farm-house. The 
entire family, father, mother, two stalwart sons and 
two buxom daughters, with several dependents, 
hurried out, full of curiosity at the strange intru- 
sions. 

Cecil slipped to the ground, advanced a step, tried 
to speak — and fell forward, fainting dead away. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CONDITIONAL PROTECTION. 

The master of the farm-house, a stout and rugged 
Highlander, sprang forward and caught Cecil as 
her slight figure swayed forward, and she lay white 
and swooning in his arms. Motioning the bystand- 
ers aside, he carried her into the house. 

The Highland women, compassionate and wonder- 
ing, struck by the girl’s marvelous beauty, and her 
helplessness, hurried after him. Old Gretchen 
followed, limping, groaning and lamenting. 

The farmer entered the great kitchen of the 
dwelling and laid Cecil upon a low and homely 
couch near a window. Her head fell back upon the 
pillow, her eyes were closed, her features were 
sharply outlined ; she looked as if she were dead. 

Gretchen, with a great cry, forgetting her own 
weariness, bent over the form of her young mistress, 
calling her name, and chafing her thin hands. The 
farmer and his sons retired to the door-yard, to look 
after the exhausted ponies. The farmer’s wife 
burned feathers under Cecil’s nose ; the farmer’s 
daughters brought cold water, Scotch whiskey, and 

[141] 


142 


Cecil Rosse. 


such other simple remedies as they deemed appro- 
priate or useful. 

Under these efficient ministrations Cecil presently 
uttered a low, sobbing sigh, and opened her dusky 
eyes in a slow, wondering expression, to be 
exchanged for one of recognition. 

The girl was too weary and spent to move a limb 
or muscle. The softness of the couch was delicious 
to her. She did not speak, except to answer inter- 
rogations showered upon her, but Gretchen hastened 
to ask the housewife for shelter for the night. 

‘‘ The MacDougals never turned even a beggar 
from their door,’' was the answer, given with a sort 
of pride. ‘‘Ye are welcome to stay as long as ye 
like, woman, both you and the puir lassie there, who 
will not be fit to travel for a week.” 

The farmer’s wife waited to ask no questions as to 
her visitors, who they were, whence they came, or 
whither they were going, but ordered a maid to 
prepare the “spare chamber” at once for their 
occupancy. 

Then the farmer’s daughters set to work at the 
evening meal, which had been in course of prepara- 
tion at the moment of the visitors’ arrival. Gretchen 
talked with Mrs. MacDougal, while Miss Rosse, lying 
back upon the chintz pillow, in a delicious restful- 
ness, her gaze wandering from object to object, took 
in all the features of the room. 

It reminded her of the great living-rooms of Zor- 
litz. It had the same quaint air, the low ceiling 
with smoke blackened beams, the stone floor, the 
immense chimney with swinging kettles and blazing 


Conditional Protection, 


143 


wood fire, but the Highland kitchen lacked certain 
picturesque features for which those of the Black 
Forest had been distinguished. To Cecil the room 
was more beautiful than any ideal palace. Its 
warmth and shelter, the friendly faces and kindly 
voices within it, thrilled her soul with joy and rest. 

A large table in the centre of the big room had 
been laid for supper. Mrs. MacDougal and her 
daughters dished up the meal and summoned the 
men. The family sat down to dinner, giving Gret- 
chen a place of honor. Cecil did not rise, and Miss 
MacDougal, a buxom young woman with a coarse 
face and heavy tread, but with kindly, admiring 
eyes, waited upon her with assiduous care. 

The family meal of porridge, oat-cakes, brawn, 
and milk, was shared by Gretchen with relish. For 
Cecil, Mrs. MacDougal prepared a tray of more 
delicate food, a pot of fragrant tea — a beverage used 
in that household only upon rare occasions — a dish 
of toast and poached eggs, and some orange 
marmalade. 

Miss Rosse sipped her tea and ate her toast at her 
leisure. When the family had finished, the servants, 
w^ho had sat also at the table, departed to their tasks, 
the farmer’s sons and daughters accompanying 
them. 

The Highlander and his wife, with Gretchen, drew 
near the girl’s couch. 

Your ponies are clean knockit up. Miss,” said 
MacDougal, politely. “ They won’t be able to 
travel the morrow, if ever. The puir beasties seem 


144 


Cecil Rosse, 


to have been hard pushed — like yersels. Hae ye 
traveled far V* 

^‘For three or four days,” replied Cecil, wearily. 

So long as that ? Had ye no man with ye, 
Miss ?” 

“ No, we were quite alone, Gretchen and I. We 
came from the sea-coast — from an old house known 
as Black Rock.” 

The farmer and his wife exchanged incredulous 
glances. 

“ Black Rock, the seat of the Cathcairns, ye dinna 
mean, Miss ?” asked the farmer. 

Cecil replied in the affirmative. 

That is a far distance by mountain passes an^ 
lonely valleys,” said Mr. MacDougal. I’ve heard 
the story of the Cathcairns — every one in the North- 
ern Hielan’s kens it well. We tell it winter nights 
aboot the fires. Miss, an’ it’s a tale to send ye to bed 
timorsome and fu’ o’ terrors. It’s a long, hard jour- 
ney frae the Nor’west coast to this place — a terrible 
journey. And ye say ye cam’ on them twa ponies, 
without saddles, and all alane ?” 

All alone — we two !” said Cecil. 

“ But ye dinna mean, o’ coorse, that ye cam’ frae 
Black Rock House, Miss ? That hae been shuttit up 
a lifetime. The ghosts of the twin brithers walk 
there, they say. ” 

“ We have spent the winter at Black Rock House,” 
said Cecil. We did not know the traditions con- 
nected with the place.” 

Again the farmer and his wife exchanged glances. 

Cecil hesitated about telling her story. After the 


Conditional Protection, 


145 


manner in which it had been received by the two 
shepherds, she did not like to rehearse a tale which 
must seem so improbable. But Gretchen, relying 
upon the truthfulness of her statements, and desirous 
of securing the. friendship and championship of these 
new acquaintances before the possible arrival of 
Jarvis in pursuit, determined to tell everything 
boldly. 

“ I don’t know how we can explain matters to 3"ou 
so that you will fully understand them,” she said, in 
a perplexed voice. What we cannot understand 
ourselves must seem strange indeed to you, but I’ll 
tell the whole thing straightforward.” 

“ Ay, woman,” said MacDougal. “ Do that !” 

“ My young mistress is a lady by birth and educa- 
tion,” said Gretchen, “ but, through the death of her 
uncle, she is obliged to earn her own living. So we 
went to London. My young lady could teach in a 
school or family ; she has all the accomplishments 
noble ladies learn, but she knew no one in England 
who could recommend her, and besides, she would 
not be separated from me, the pastor’s old servant 
who cared for her in her pretty childhood and who 
actually worships her to-day. W'e would not be 
separated, so my young lady procured embroidery- 
work to do at home.” 

Well ?” said Mr. MacDougal, as" Gretchen 
paused and glanced at the thin and vshadowy young 
face on the pillow, with a tender yearning in her 
gaze. That dinna explain your appearance here, 
woman.” 

“ A rich lady saw Miss Cecil’s work, and hired her 


146 


Cecil Rosse. 


to go to her country-house in Yorkshire to repair 
some valuable tapestry/’ continued old Gretchen. 
“ The lady advised us to sail in her yacht, and save 
our traveling expenses, as the yacht was ordered to 
go to her country place and must sail in any case 
immediately. We drove to Gravesend and em- 
barked on the yacht. We were at sea several days, 
and were landed at Black Rock, where we have 
remained ever since — a period of seven months 
or so !” 

This is vera strange. Black Rock does not 
belong to a lady. The present owners, distant 
relatives of the Cathcaims, never visit the spot. 
They have left the auld house to fa’ to ruin. ” 

“ There is some mystery in the affair that we 
cannot attempt to solve,” said Cecil, gently. We 
do not believe that Lady Trevor, the lady who 
employed me, knows that we were brought to Scot- 
land.” 

My young lady has an enemy,” said Gretchen, 
a terrible and secret enemy. That enemy con- 
trived to know of her engagement to Lady Trevor, 
and to take advantage of it. We were put on board 
the wrong yacht, or else Miss Cecil’s enemy bought 
over the captain of Lady Trevor’s yacht to aid his 
own wicked purposes. We were brought to Black 
Rock, where a man and woman were in charge. 
So well had Miss Cecil’s enemy understood her 
engagement to Lady Trevor, and so well had ue 
contrived affairs, that we found a room at Black 
Rock hung with tapestry, just as we expected, and 


Conditional Protection. 


147 


my young lady went to work to repair it, supposing 
that we were at Lady Trevor’s house.” 

‘‘ Curious — vera curious,” commented MacDougal, 
eyeing both the strangers sharply. 

“ We never suspected our terrible mistake, or the 
awful conspiracy against us,” continued Gretchen, 
‘‘ till a few weeks ago, when I heard the man Jarvis 
and his wife and a Portuguese woman with them 
plotting to kill my young lady and me. They dis- 
covered us listening and would have killed us on 
the spot, but that they were compelled to remain at 
Black Rock longer, and feared our ghosts would 
haunt them. They shut us up as prisoners in the 
old tower and waited for warmer weather. The other 
night they crept up to our rooms to complete their 
evil work — to stab us to death in our sleep.” 

MacDougal expressed his amazement, and Gret- 
chen, warming with an indignant sense of her own 
and Miss Cecil’s wrongs, told in a graphic and spir- 
ited manner the incidents of that fearful night on 
which they had escaped from their enemies. She 
described the steps upon the old stairs, the stealthy 
sound at the doors, the refuge in the old chimney- 
recess, the silent entrance of the intending assass- 
ins, the outcry, the alarm, the escape. 

And then she described their flight, its terrors and 
adventures, the shepherd’s hut and the second 
escape from Jarvis, the loss of the pony in a moun- 
tain-pass, and her own narrow escape from death, 
and concluded by imploring MacDougal to befriend 
her young mistress and herself. 

I know that Jarvis is hurrying after us,” she 


148 


Cecil Rosse. 


exclaimed. Miss Cecil cannot go on to-morrow. 
He may find us here. Tell us that he shall not 
harm us, Mr. MacDougal, that you will protect us. 
In the name of Heaven, befriend two helpless 
beings who are cast upon your mercy.’' 

It’s a vera strange story,” said the Highlander, 
cautiously, his face wearing a puzzled expression. 

I never heard the like. But as you say, you’ll not 
be able to travel for some days to coom. The young 
lady is tired out, and ye look the same. Ye shall 
have food an’ shelter ; make yoursels comfortable on 
that.” 

“ And protection, too ?” asked Gretcheu, eagerly. 

If Jarvis come, will you protect us 

The Highlander scratched his head. 

“ Wull, ye see, woman,” he said, there’s always 
twa sides to a story. I maun hear the ither side 
afore I promise.” 

Gretchen wrung her hands together. Cecil’s pale, 
thin face grew paler, and she made a feeble attempt 
to rise. 

Dinna ye fash yersels !” exclaimed MacDougal. 
‘‘Ye can stay, an’ welcome. But I’ll tell ye freely 
your story does not sound well. People do no mur- 
ders in this country an’ age o’ the worl’, or if they do, 
it’s in wicked Liin’on and the South, and not in the 
Hielan’s. I doot but the young lady has riii awa’ 
frae her hame. I doot but there’s a fause lover 
somewhere, or that she rebels against law an’ author- 
ity contrary to the Holy Scriptures, an’ that ye aid 
an* abet her. So I maun hear the ither side.” 

“Jarvis will tell you that he is a mad-house 


Conditional Protection. 


149 


keeper, and that we are escaped patients,” said Cecil, 
bitterly. 

MacDougal regarded the visitors vsuspiciously. It 
seemed to him that such a statement would cer- 
tainly have a strong air of probability. He began 
to think it might be the true solution of this strange 
affair. There certainly was a daft” appearance 
about the old ‘‘foreign woman.” 

“I resairve my joodjment until the man Jairvis 
appears,” he announced. “ An* when I hae heard 
baith sides o* the case I maun gie my decision. 
Whichever seems most probable I shall favor.’* 

Mrs. MacDougal, a strong-featured, sandy-haired 
woman, with a decided spirit of her own, who had 
listened to the story with keen and vivid interest, 
watching the beautiful young girl on the couch 
with a gaze of rapt admiration, now interposed : 

“ Dinna ye fash yersel,” she exclaimed. “ I 
believe ye baith. If ony man Jairvis or what ither 
name he maun ca* hisself, cooms here, he shall be 
walkit off wi* a flea in his lug. Mind that, Wil- 
lum ! Jean MacDougal taks these puir women 
under her own protection, an* they shall bide safe 
in this hoose, an* gae safe awa* when they hae restid. 
Mind that, Willum.” 

Mrs. MacDougal appeared like an angel of mercy 
to the worn-out fugitives, her light-gray eyes flash- 
ing, her strong features working in excess of indig- 
nant feeling. 

“ We’ll see, we’ll see,” said the master of the 
house, all the more set in his resolve because his 
wife had espoused the cause of these strangers. 


150 


Cecil Rosse. 


‘‘Dinnaye bind yersel’ wi' a fulish promise, Jean. 
We maun hear the ither side — 

“ The ither side !’' repeated Mrs. MacDougal, 
scornfully. “ I'll stan' by my ain sect, Willum. 
These are women, so am I, an' I'll na men-folk rin 
on 'em. This hoose is their sanctooary. They shall 
stay or gae, as they wull !" 

A maid entered and whispered in her mistress' 
ear. 

Mrs. MacDougal arose. 

The prophet's chamber is ready," she announced, 
employing the ancient phrase by which the spare 
chamber is still often known in country places, in 
allusion to the occasional visits of some minister 
who is invited to occupy it. “ I'll tak' ye to it 
mysel’." 

Gretchen arose, but paused, picking at her gown 
nervously. 

I cannot sleep if I am to have the terror of that 
man Jarvis before my eyes," she exclaimed. “ Mr^ 
MacDougal, can I say nothing to convince you that 
I have told the truth ? If you would only believe 
us, and promise to protect us, we would bless you 
for your goodness. But if you resolve to listen to 
Jarvis, we are lost !" 

If ye speak truth," said the farmer, ye can 
prove it. Is not this sae ? An' if ye prove it. I'll 
be yer fren'." 

“ But how can I prove it ?" asked Gretchen, de- 
spairingly. ‘‘ You won't take our word." 

“Ye say the man Jairvis ha' but a lame pony. 
He'll be a day or more in cooming here. I can 


Conditional Protection. 


151 


keep him waitin’ a few days an’ ye like. The 
young lady is na fit to travel at present. Ye hae 
friends, belike. Write to them, an’ wait here till ye 
get an answer. If they corroborate your words, well 
and guid. If not, let the man Jairvis be believit.” 

Cecil’s face showed her despair. She thought of 
her landlady, Mrs. Thomas, of Queen’s Crescent, 
Bayswater, but, although Mrs. Thomas might write 
in response to a letter, she certainly would not come 
to Scotland. And after her months of absence from 
London, Cecil feared that she could not make her 
long silence intelligible to Mrs. Thomas in a letter, 
and that her missive might meet with no response. 

She thought of Lady Trevor, but she believed 
that the widow had become long since the wife of 
Lord Glenham, and she shrank from an appeal to 
the supposed wife of the man she still loved with 
her entire soul. 

To whom else could she write ? Her heart sunk 
within her. 

Old Gretchen went over the same ground in her 
own mind. She thought of Mrs. Thomas, of Lady 
Trevor, and of Mr. Pulford. And then, with a 
great sigh of relief, she thought of Maldred 
Crafton. 

He loved her young mistress ; he would hasten to 
her relief and protection. Her face glowed ; her 
eyes shone. 

I have thought of a friend who will corroborate 
our words,” she exclaimed, ‘‘ and, more than that, 
who will come here and take us away. Give me 
pen and paper, and I’ll write the letter now.” 


15 ^ 


Cecil Rosse, 


‘‘ It shall be sent to post i’ the morninV’ said Mac- 
Dougal. “ The weekly post leaves here the 
morrow.’* 

Mrs. MacDougal brought writing materials, and 
Gretchen sat down to engage in the laborious task 
of writing her letter. 

Are you writing to Lord Glenham, Gretchen ?” 
asked Cecil, in German, her face flushing. 

‘‘ No, indeed. I would not write to the false 
lover,” responded the old woman, indignantly, but 
to the true lover, who stood by us in sorrow and 
trouble, and offered you an honorable marriage and 
a splendid home when you were alone and friend- 
less. I will write to Mr. Crafton !” 

Cecil made no objection, and Gretchen spelled out 
her words carefully, writing in her own language, 
and giving an account of their adventures since 
leaving their lodgings in London. She begged Mr. 
Crafton to hasten to the rescue of her young mis- 
tress, stating her fears lest Mr. MacDougal should 
be won to deliver them up to Jarvis, in case of any 
delay. The letter finished, she signed, sealed and 
addressed it. 

MacDougal deposited the letter on a wooden 
shelf, repeating the assurance that it should go on 
the morrow with the weekly post. 

“ An’ novT,” said Mrs. MacDougal, ye are quite 
safe till ye can hear frae yer ain friends. The 
man Jairvis, if he coom, will be obleeged to wait 
Ye hae Willum’s word. Now, coom to your cham- 
ber. The bed is ready, and the young lady is vera 
weak an’ ill !” 


Conditional Protection. 


153 


She took lip a candle and moved towards the door. 
Cecil attempted to rise, but her head swam with 
sudden giddiness, and a faintness seized upon her, 
compelling her to fall back on her pillow. The 
farmer, seeing her weakness, picked her up in his 
arms as if she had been a child, and followed in the 
wake of his wife and Gretchen. 

They ascended a bare, wooden flight of steps to 
the second floor. Mrs. MacDougal led the way to 
the front chamber. 

It was large, with a sloping roof, and with two 
dormer windows. The floor was bare, but spotlessly 
clean. A great, four-post bedstead, with a home- 
made rug on either side of it, occupied the centre of 
the room. A fire of pine cones and branches on the 
hearth diffused a delightful warmth and fragrance 
through the chamber, the night being chilly enough 
to require it. 

Mrs. MacDougal officiated as tiring- woman to her 
exhausted chief guest. She unfastened the heavy 
garments Cecil had not laid aside for days, and 
brought her a night-robe of homespun linen which 
smelled of lavender, and helped her into the high 
bed with its snowy, lavendered sheets above billows 
of sweet and elastic feathers. Gretchen undressed 
herself and crept into the same bed, at the desire of 
her young mistress. 

Then the farmer’s wife brought to them two bowls 
of wine posset, steaming hot, and urged them to 
drink. They obeyed, draining the bowls, and she 
stole out with soft step, leaving them to their 
slumbers. 


154 


Cecil Rosse. 


One thing- I’m sure of,” was Gretchen’s last 
thought, as she drifted into sleep, ‘‘and that is that 
Mr. Grafton will come to us — and that Miss Cecil 
will marry him ! After all this trouble, with a 
deadly enemy seeking her destruction, she will 
marry him in very gratitude and to assure her 
safety !” 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MRS. PETERS GAINS A CLEW. 

Lady Trevor returned home from her drive in the 
park in a sullen rage. Her hatred of Mr. Pulford 
was intensified to positive abhorrence. She hurried 
up the steps of her house, disdaining his assistance, 
and he, cool and smiling, followed after her, quite 
with the air of master of the house. 

“ You will have to excuse me,” she said, pausing 
in the hall. I must dress for dinner.” 

No apologies are necessary between you and 
me, Edith,” responded Mr. Pulford, in his blandest 
tones. But, as you remind me, I will go and dress 
for dinner also and return by the time you are 
ready.” 

He raised his hat, and tripped lightly down the 
steps again into the street. 

Lady Trevor gazed after him with a malevolence 
in which was expressed all the evil of which her soul 
was capable. Then, her hand clutching the phials 
in her bosom, she slowly ascended the stair to her 
own rooms. 

He will dine with me to-day,” she thought as she 


156 


Cecil Rosse, 


entered her boudoir. Oh, if I dared administer 
this poison in his wine ! If opportunity offers, I will 
do it. I will free myself from his claims at the 
earliest possible moment. I will never marry him, 
placing myself and my fortune in his hands. I shall 
watch my opportunity — if that opportunity comes 
to-day, so much the worse for him and the better 
for me !” 

Her maid came from an inner room to attend 
upon her. Lady Trevor flung off her bonnet and 
lay down upon a sofa, dismissing her servant. Her 
thoughts were very dark and sullen. 

Tve had my own way all my life,'* she said to 
herself, regardless of every one, and I’ll have it 
still. I married Sir Albert Trevor in defiance of the 
wishes of my father and grandfather. With Sir 
Albert’s help, I won the great wealth of my step- 
mother. I have swept this Cecil Rosse from my 
path. I shall sweep Horace Pulford aside just as 
easily.” 

Her thoughts settled upon Cecil Rosse. 

If only the girl were dead all would be safe !” 
she mused. Pulford says that she can be kept up 
in that old haunted house in perfect safety until she 
dies of old age. While she lives I may have need 
of him. Perhaps I had better urge Pulford to 
destroy her before our marriage, and when that 
destruction is safely accomplished, and she no 
longer lives, I can get rid of him. I have need to 
be prudent. If I give him this poison to-day, I may 
have need of his serv^ices to-morrow. I must not be 
too precipitate or rash. With this subtle weapon in 


Mrs, Peters Gains a Clew, 


J57 


my hands, I can put him out of my way at almost 
any moment.” 

As she thus reflected, she decided to bear all 
the annoyances consequent upon her engagement of 
marriage a little longer before depriving herself 
forever of Pulford’s valuable services. 

Her cheeks burned as her thoughts turned to 
Lord Glenham, but she had by no means given up 
all hope of becoming his wife. If Pulford were 
dead, she could make such excuses for her engage- 
ment to him to the Countess of Glenham as would 
go far to reinstate her in that lady’s confidence and 
good graces. 

“ I shall win yet !” she assured herself. The 
prospect looks a little dark now, I admit, but with 
Cecil Rosse and Pulford dead, with Lady Glenham 
on my side, with the memory of my avowal in his 
generous heart, Gordon will yet turn to me with 
affection and ask me to become his wife. I can 
wait. All will come out right yet.’' 

With recovered spirits she arose and passed into 
her dressing-room. She had decided not to put her 
murderous plans against Pulford into action just 
yet, but to carry matters with a high hand, to show 
herself in society as heretofore, and even, if neces- 
sary, to acknowledge her engagement. 

I shall go to the theatre to-night. Cerise,” she 
exclaimed. I require one of my prettiest toilets.” 

The Frenchwoman attired her mistress with 
scrupulous skill and care in a robe of pearl-colored 
silk and maroon velvet — a French creation — with a 
heart-shaped bodice filled in with point lace, and 


Cecil Rosse, 


158 


with elbow-sleeves, edged with lace frills. With a 
costly pariire of diamonds, with an artificial rose- 
flush on her cheeks and lips, an [artificial shadow 
under her hard, black eyes, with an animation born 
of new schemes and reviving hopes, Lady Trevor 
looked unusually handsome as she descended at 
length, to the drawing-room. 

Mr. Pulford was there in waiting for her. 

He arose and stepped forward to greet her. He 
knew her hardness, her unscrupulous nature, her 
capabilities for wickedness ; he delighted to humble 
her pride, to sting her soul in the ways he so well 
knew, in return for her treatment of him, but 
nevertheless, as much as he was capable of loving, 
he loved her. He admired her ; he sympathized 
with her boldness and hardness ; yet, after all, 
what he most admired and longed to possess was 
her immense fortune. Next to that, he coveted 
her position in society ; he desired to ally himself 
through her to a great and powerful family. His 
avarice and ambition alike interested, he was glad 
to see that she had changed her mood, and was 
now as smiling and pleasant as she had been 
before bitter and defiant. 

He suited his mood to hers. 

‘‘Your drive did you good, Edith,** he said, pleas- 
antly. “ Have you remembered my invitation for 
this evening ? I have a box at the Prince of Wales 
theatre.** 

“ I have remembered. I will go !** was the gra- 
cious response. 

Her amiability struck her *suitor as treacherous. 


Af7^s, Peters Gains a Clew, 


159 


He watched her narrowly thereafter throughout the 
evening. 

Dinner was announced. Mr. Pulford gave Lady 
Trevor his arm and led her in to dinner. They 
lingered at the table over the dessert, and finally 
returned to the drawing-room. 

The carriage is waiting,’' said Mr. Pulford. We 
shall arrive at the beginning of the second act ; 
early enough, I dare say ; yet I think we ought now 
to be going.” 

The widow assented, and ordered her opera cloak — 
the one poor Cecil had wrought — and followed her 
suitor to the carriage. 

As they went down the marble steps they met a 
woman ascending them. 

This woman was Sarah Peters. 

In the light that streamed through the open door- 
way, Lady Trevor saw that the woman had a sickly 
countenance and a shabby gown, and that she had 
the look of one upon a begging excursion. The lady 
did not recognize her, and drew her silken train 
aside as if she feared contamination, and swept on. 

Mrs. Peters turned and followed her to the car- 
riage. 

“ Lady Trevor,” she began, in a whining sort of 
voice. “ My lady — ” 

Mr. Pulford pushed the woman aside rudely. 

“ Off with you, you beggar,” he exclaimed, or I’ll 
have you arrested !” 

Lady Trevor !” repeated the woman, desper- 
ately. I must speak to you — ” 


i6o 


Cecil Rosse. 


Mr. Pulford slammed the door, and the carriage 
rolled swiftly away. 

“ I ought to have waited till morning,*' the woman 
muttered, gazing after it. ‘‘ But I was too impa- 
tient. I’ll come again to-morrow, and I won’t be 
pushed aside then. I’ll warrant. Being I’m here, I 
might as well find out what I can.” 

She hurried up the steps just as the hall-porter 
was about to close the door. 

If you please, sir,” said she, respeetfully, inter- 
posing her person in the doorway, ‘‘ was that Lady 
Trevor who just went out ?” 

“ It was,” was the response. “ You’d better be off, 
my good woman. No beggars allowed at this door.” 

“ I am not a beggar. I was a respectable servant 
once, and am a seamstress now,” replied Mrs. Peters. 
“ I thought perhaps I could get a place in this 
great house.” 

“ No servants are engaged here except through 
the usual channels,” said the hall-porter, pompously. 

You’d better apply in some tradesman’s family.” 

Mrs. Peters did not offer to retreat. The man, 
through sheer love of gossip, allowed her to remain 
on the threshold, and quite enjoyed her amazement 
as her gaze took in the magnificence of the hall and 
its adornments. 

“ This Lady Trevor must be immensely rich,” she 
ejaculated. 

“ Immensely,” was the answer, given with a pride 
that showed that the hall-porter even felt the 
reflected glory of his mistress’ grandeur. You 






■ -Jm 



Mrs, Peters Gams a Clew, 


i6i 


see I was right. You ought to try for a place out of 
the aristocracy.’' 

And Lady Trevor has only one child to inherit 
all this wealth ?’' asked Mrs. Peters. 

She has none. She never had any. You are 
mistaken — 

The butler’s gruff voice was heard at this junc- 
ture ordering the hall-porter to close the door. Mrs. 
Peters retreated abruptly, and the door was closed. 

“ She has no child,” mused the woman, slowly 
descending the steps. “ That I can understand. 
She never had one ? That is singular. What did 
she do with the one she had in Germany ? There’s 
some mystery in this. Didn’t she adopt that one, 
after all ? I intend to know, and I ought to make 
inquiries before I call again.” 

She paused before the area-way, half tempted to 
descend. Then she walked slowly on. 

She had not gone more than a few yards when 
she suddenly encountered the nurse she had seen in 
Hyde Park that afternoon. The nurse uttered a cry 
of surprise at this second encounter. 

“ Whatever are you doing here at the West End, 
Sarah Peters ?” she demanded. 

“ And what are you doing out at this hour ?” 
retorted the seamstress. 

I live near here. I’ve been out for an hour or 
two, as it’s my evening out. But you don’t belong 
in this direction, Sarah Peters. 1 do believe as 
you’re looking up Lady Trevor, after all I said to 
you, too. Look out you don’t get into some trouble.” 

‘‘ I shan’t do that. I don’t want nothing of Lady 


i 62 


Cecil Rosse. 


Trevor, especially as you say she never had a child,” 
said Mrs. Peters, artfully. “ You know all about 
the aristocracy — I wish 1 did. Next to being one 
on ’em is to know all about ’em.” 

That is so !” assented the nurse. All these 
great families have their troubles like poorer ones. 
Why, even this great Marquis of St. Leonards, Lady 
Trevor’s grandfather, has had his share of grief, and 
plenty of it came through Lady Trevor, they say.” 

“ How ?” asked Mrs. Peters, eagerly. 

I don’t mind telling,” said the nurse, as they 
walked slowly on together, arm in arm, especially 
as its no secret. The Marquis of St. Leonards had 
a son he loved to distraction. His son was called 
Lord Harry Ravendale. He, the son, fell in love 
with a low sort of woman and his father cast him 
off. The low wife, a regular scheming creature, 
lived only a year after the marriage and died, leav- 
ing one child. Lady Edith Ravendale, now Lady 
Trevor !” 

How interesting it sounds !” said Mrs. Peters. 

Especially as you tell it !” 

The nurse, flattered, continued : 

‘‘When Lady Edith was nearly a young lady. 
Lord Harry Ravendale married a second time. His 
wife was an orphan, of a great family, and one of 
the biggest heiresses of the day. The marquis 
loved her as if she’d been his daughter. From this 
second marriage one child was born, a girl, who 
was called the Lady Alba. This child became the 
marquis’ idol. About that time Lady Edith took it 
into her head to elope with Sir Albert Trevor, one 


Mrs, Peters Gains a Clezv, 


163 


of the worst men that ever lived. After that, Lord 
Harry and his young wife and little child, went to 
Italy for the wife’s health. She had consumption, I 
believe. And Lord Harry took the Roman fever, 
or some other disease, and died there.” 

I don’t see how this concerns Lady Trevor,” 
said Mrs. Peters. 

“You don’t? Well, I’ll tell you. After Lord 
Harry died his widow sent for Lady Trevor to come 
to her. And Lady Trevor and her husband went. 
Lord Harry’s wife died of consumption abroad and 
left her child to Lady Trevor’s care, telling her to 
bring the child back to its grandfather. But she did 
not do that. She stayed away months. And when 
the marquis sent after the child they found it was 
dying. They brought the little body home and 
buried it, and for fifteen years Lord St. Leonards 
never forgave nor spoke to his granddaughter. 
Lor, every one knows of the estrangement between 
them.” 

“ How long ago did this happen ?” 

“ Fifteen years.” 

“ And the little step-sister. Lady Alba, died ?” 

“Yes. She was three years old at the time. 
They say that when her body was brought home, 
the doctors said the child had died of marasmus !” 

Mrs. Peters started. 

“ Some folks said that the little Lady Alba had 
been ill-treated, and had died of neglect,” said the 
gossipy nurse. “ People will talk, you know, when 
a million of money is involved.” 

“ A million of money ?” 


164 


Cecil Rosse, 


“ Yes. The little Lady Alba inherited that 
amount from her mother, and by the mother’s will 
the money went to Lady Trevor at the child’s 
death. That’s where she got all her wealth. Sir 
Albert was as poor as a church mouse, having 
wasted his own inheritance. You see, I know a 
great deal about these noble families, Sarah Peters. 
I could tell you things — but my time’s up. I must 
go in, or I’ll catch it from the head nurse. Good 
night !” 

She darted away as a clock somewhere in the 
vicinity struck the hour, and Mrs. Peters was left to 
herself. 

“ Let me think it out,” the woman muttered. ‘T’ve 
got a clew at last to the mystery that puzzled me. 
I think I see my way to make my fortune !” 



CHAPTER XV. 

CLEARING THE WAY. 

Lady Trevor and Mr. Pulford arrived at the 
theatre just after the commencement of the second 
act of the play. Many lorgnettes were leveled at 
the handsome widow, who bore the scrutiny with 
composure, employing her own lorgnette in a leis- 
urely survey of the house. She seemed happy and 
self-sufficient, and the general belief of her friends 
was that she was making a love-match with the 
very satisfied and complacent-looking Mr. Pulford. 

At the end of the second act several gentlemen, 
who had been among Lady Trevor’s suiters, made 
the best of their defeat, and thronged in upon her. 

She was very gracious to them all. She seemed 
in excellent spirits, and Mr. Pulford played the 
devoted lover to perfection. 

As the music struck up, the group of visitors sepa- 
rated, several members of it withdrawing Jio seek 
their seats or to make other calls. They were 
replaced by others, among whom were Maldred 
Crafton. 

His months of unavailing search for Cecil Rosse 

[165] 


Cecil Rosse, 


1 66 


had told upon the dark and saturnine visage of Graf- 
ton. He looked baffled, disappointed, troubled. He 
had a trick of starting at every sound. He was 
perpetually on the lookout for some trace of the lost 
girl or her servant. He never passed a. slender, 
girlish figure in the street, or a clumsy old woman^ 
but that he started with a thrill of hope that was 
invariably followed by a deeper and darker despair. 
He did not relax his efforts in any degree. He called 
at Queen’s Crescent regularly to inquire if Mrs. 
Thomas had received news. He was more intimate 
than ever with Lord Glenham so that if the earl had 
found a clew to the lost ones, he would have been 
informed of it nearly as soon as his lordship. 

He had visited the theatre upon this night through 
sheer restlessness. Like most of Lady Trevor’s 
acquaintances, he had heard the rumors of her mat- 
rimonial intentions, and now hastened to congratu- 
late Mr Pulford, and to offer her ladyship his best 
wishes for her future happiness. 

‘‘You do not look very happy yourself, Mr. Graf- 
ton,*' remarked Lady Trevor, regarding keenly his 
dark, thin face. “ You are grown a very shadow 
during these past few months. Are you still mourn- 
ing for Miss Rosse ?” 

“ I am still searching for her,” replied Mr. Grafton, 
quietly. 

“ Your search is hopeless, believe me,” said the 
widow, with a shade more of earnestness in her 
voice than she knew. “ Miss Rosse will never be 
found !’* 


Clearing the Way. 


167 


Grafton's gaze became a little more keen ; some- 
thing of eagerness crept into his manner. 

‘‘ Have you heard something ?” he asked. 

“ No," replied Lady Trevor, coolly. “ How could 
I hear anything ? Do you think that, after breaking 
her engagement to me. Miss Rosse could write to 
me at this late day > I judge from the long silence 
of months. Detective officers have searched all 
Europe for her ; you and Lord Glenham and the 
Marquis of St. Leonards, my grandfather, have 
worked without ceasing, tracing every possible clew 
to its beginning. You have not found her — you 
never will find her. The failure of these months is 
symbolic of the failure of years. She is gone beyond 
any one's finding. It is one of those tragic disap- 
pearances we read about now and then with a chill 
creeping of the flesh. I believe that she is dead. 
If she were living some trace of her must have been 
found before this." 

“ I cannot believe that she is dead !" said Grafton. 

I will not believe it. It is incredible that she and 
Gretchen could both die so suddenly and leave no 
trace. Had they perished by some accident, their 
bodies would have been found." 

“ Do you know, Mr. Grafton," said Lady Trevor, 
in a tone too low for other ears than those for which 
her words were intended. I have always had my 
suspicions of that cabman who took Miss Rosse and 
her servant from my house ? It is certainly singu- 
lar that he never replied to any of the advertise- 
ments for him, that he never made application for 
the reward offered for his discovery, and that. 


i68 


Cecil Rosse. 


although you have applied again and again to the 
proprietors of cab-stands, that particular man could 
never be found 

Lady Trevor knew very well that the cabman in 
question had been advertised for as having carried 
a young lady and her servant to Euston Square sta- 
tion — a sufficient reason why he had not declared 
himself, as he had in reality transported Miss Rosse 
to Gravesend. 

“ You think that the cabman may have murdered 
Miss Rosse and her servant asked Grafton. 

I don't know what I think. But, certainly the 
cabman's silence is very mysterious. And the fact 
is proven that Miss Rosse never arrived at Euston 
Square. Whether she changed her mind on the 
way and went elsewhere, or whether he took her to 
some house, or murdered her in his vehicle, I have 
no idea. You know more of the dark ways of lower- 
class London than I, Mr. Grafton, and ought to be 
able to form some idea approximating to the truth." 

Some one addressed Lady Trevor at this moment 
and she turned from Grafton, smiling and gracious. 
He regarded her with a lingering furtive glance. He 
had known t;f her love for Lord Glenham, and had at 
the first suspected her of having removed Miss Rosse 
from London through motives of jealousy. These 
suspicions that had been lulled for a time now 
recurred to him with singular force. Gould Lady 
Trevor have sent Miss Rosse away ? It did not seem 
possible, the more especially as the widow was now 
engaged to be married to Mr. Pulford. 

“Yet she does not love Pulford," mused Grafton, 


Clearing the Way. 


169 


studying her, and I know that she does love Glen- 
ham with all her soul. There is some mystery 
about this sudden engagement of hers, else she 
accepts Pulford in sheer despair of ever winning 
Lord Glenham. Under all that suavity and sweet- 
ness, it appears to me that Mr. Pulford holds my 
lady in his power, and that she stands in terror of 
him. He is not a man to win her love, even though 
she had not loved Lord Glenham. She is ambitious, 
yet he is her inferior in rank and fortune. She 
desires to win Lord St. Leonard’s favor ; this mar- 
riage will alienate her grandfather from her utterly- 
She might marry a title and fortune — what can be 
the secret of her taking up with her business agent ? 
There’s something wrong in the affair. If I were 
not so occupied with the mystery of Miss Rosse’s 
fate, I would devote some attention to this." 

The music ceased ; the curtain rose, and Lady 
Trevor’s visitors departed, all except Maldred Graf- 
ton. He took possession of a chair in the shadow of 
one of the silken curtains, and kept up a low-voiced 
conversation with the widow, Mr. Pulford keeping 
his eyes fixed on the stage and his ears open to the 
words of his companions. 

You ought to get married, Mr. Grafton,’’ said 
Lady Trevor, playfully. Gelibacy is going out of 
fashion. There’s a charming young lady in the 
opposite box — Miss Mandell, you know. Why don’t 
you turn your thoughts in that direction, instead of 
mourning for a girl so greatly your inferior in rank as 
Miss Rosse ?” 

“ I can’t shift my affections about from object to 


Cecil Rosse, 


1 70 


object with the celerity you seem to suppose,” 
replied Crafton. With me to love once is to love 
forever.” 

Lady Trevor fancied a hidden meaning in his 
words — a sort of implied reproach to herself — and 
flushed hotly under her rouge and powder. 

“ You forget,” she said, that Miss Rosse loves 
Lord Glenham. If you should find her, she might 
not marry you.” 

‘‘We have no right to suppose her in love with the 
earl, since she was not engaged to marry him. I do 
not despair of finding Miss Rosse, nor of winning 
her to be my wife. Whatever the mystery of her 
fate, I shall yet solve it. There has been foul play 
somewhere ; of that I am sure. And woe betide 
those who have been concerned in it when I 
discover them !” added Crafton, speaking with sud- 
den fury, through his clenched teeth, and looking 
with menace and suspicion into the hard, black eyes 
of the widow. “ Whoever has harmed that innocent 
girl shall suffer a frightful retribution ! I swear it !” 

Lady Trevor shuddered. Crafton saw that her 
eyes blenched, and that, in spite of a manifest effort 
at self-control, a look of swift alarm sprang into 
them. 

“ You are tragic !” remarked Mr. Pulford, quietly, 
turning around. “ Did no one ever suspect before 
that you had a turn for melodrama, Mr. Crafton ? 
As to Miss Rosse, whether she be found or not, can 
matter very little to Lady Trevor. An embroidress 
more or less to the world can’t matter. Suppose we 
pay a little attention to the stage for a change.” 


Clearing the Way, 


171 


He resumed his contemplation of the leading 
actress. Lady Trevor followed his example, plying 
her lace fan with Spanish grace. Mr. Crafton 
assumed a meditative attitude and watched her 
closely. That look of alarm, the sudden blenching 
of her gaze, had done much to strengthen his reviv- 
ing suspicions of her. 

“ Can it be that Lady Trevor is at the bottom of 
Miss Rosse's disappearance ?” he asked himself. 

It looks as if it might be so. And yet what cause 
could she have had for getting her out of the way 
except jealousy ? Would jealousy be a sufficient 
reason ? Lady Trevor is engaged to marry Pulford. 
Could her love for Glenham have been deep enough 
to impel her to a crime to win him ?” 

He pondered the question seriously. At the end 
of the third act he made his adieux and withdrew to 
his own seat. 

Then, as Lady Trevor and he were alone together, 
Mr. Pulford said quietly, in a tone scarcely above a 
whisper : 

‘‘ Be more upon your guard, Edith. If Mr. Craf- 
ton had been a little sharper-sighted, he must inev- 
itably have suspected something wrong from your 
manner while he was talking. With all your cool- 
ness and hardihood you are only a woman, after 
all.” 

‘‘It is impossible that Mr. Crafton should get 
upon the right track,” whispered Lady Trevor, with 
a shade of anxiety. 

“ Perfectly so,” replied Mr. Pulford, easily. 

“And yet I feel a strange uneasiness,” murmured 


172 


Cecil Rosse. 


the widow, in a troubled voice. I wish that the 
girl were dead and buried. Then I would be free 
from [these haunting fears — then I could enjoy my 
life and my fortune. If she were only dead 

“ She is the same as dead 

‘‘Yet not the same, for, as she is now, there is 
always a possibility of resurrection. Mr. Crafton 
will never give over the search while he lives, and 
some accident may place in his hands a clew which 
might possibly lead to a discovery. And there is 
always a possibility that those creatures might 
betray you for money.'' 

“ Not much. They would not dare." 

“ Yet," repeated the widow, persistently. “ I wish 
the girl were dead !" 

The significance in her tone was a revelation to 
Mr. Pulford. Both sat silent for a brief period ap- 
parently absorbed in listening to the music now 
thrilling the air of the auditorium. But presently, 
under cover of her fan, Lady Trevor, in a subtle 
whisper that barely reached the sharpened hearing 
of her companion, again gave utterance to her mis- 
givings. 

“ Those people, you say, are perfectly unscrupu- 
lous," she said. “ Why do you allow them to keep 
the girl a prisoner when she might be put out of the 
way at once ? They fear you ; they would do any- 
thing for money. Why not hire them to kill the 
girl ?" 

“You are making swift progress," returned Mr. 
Pulford, in a similar whisper. “ Six months ago 
you scouted the very idea of murder. And now 


Clearing the Way, 


173 


you urge me to commit one — yes, two — for if the girl 
dies the old woman must also.’' 

I have heard that there is no standing still in 
this life,” replied Lady Trevor. One must go up- 
ward or downward. And I, having begun, must 
keep on in the path I am treading. There is no 
turning back for me. Let them both die, girl and 
old woman, so that I am safe.” 

Mr. Pulford smiled evilly. 

‘‘ You have got rid of your earlier scruples,” he 
muttered, ‘‘ so I may as well tell you that I expect 
every day to hear of the two deaths for which you 
are so anxious. I told Jarvis and the others that I 
would pay them handsome sums of money outright 
on proofs of those deaths, or if they continued to 
play jailer. I’d pay them an annuity. Jarvis and his 
wife are London-bred. They won’t be likely to 
remain in that Highland solitude much longer. The 
Portuguese woman will think of her own country 
and be willing to do anything to return to it. The 
snows and winds, the awful cold, and the more 
awful loneliness, will drive the three wretches to 
desperation. I expect them in London any day 
with proofs of the girl’s death.” 

Lady Trevor drew a breath of relief. 

‘‘You have planned well,” she replied. “ I have 
got rid of my old scruples against taking life. If I 
had been rid of them fifteen years ago, I should 
have been a happier woman to-day. I often wish 
now that I had let Sir Albert have his own way, but 
the mistake I made then you will soon repair. I 
wish you could send orders to Jarvis to hurry up — ” 


174 


Cecil Rosse, 


Impossible. He could not be reached by mail 
or telegraph, and I dare not send a special messen- 
ger to him. No, no, Edith, we must be patient. If 
we hear no news from Scotland this summer, be 
sure that before another winter comes on the Jar- 
vises and the Portuguese woman will fly southward, 
leaving all encumbrances behind them. One winter 
on that desolate coast is enough for them, rest 
assured.'' 

Lady Trevor became thoughtful and silent. 

She had determined to rid herself of Pulford and 
his claims before the arrival of the day he had 
appointed for their marriage. But she desired to 
have Cecil Rosse destroyed first. She felt herself 
unable to cope with the Jarvises and the Portuguese 
woman, who had not seen her, and whom she 
desired not to meet. She would stimulate Pulford 
to commit the hideous double crime she desired, and 
then she would destroy him ruthlessly. 

She called all her cunning to her aid and tried to 
devise some plan by which to bring about the ends 
she desired. 

The curtain rose, and the mimic life " upon the 
stage proceeded with its representation. Both Lady 
Trevor and Mr. Pulford watched the scene with 
attentive eyes, but with minds far away. Neither 
again alluded to the subject that employed the 
thoughts of both. They sat out the play, and 
re-entered the carriage and returned to South Aud- 
ley street. Mr. Pulford gave his arm to the lady, 
assisting her up the steps. 


Clearing ihe Way, 


175 


Come into the drawing-room,” said the widow, 
graciously. ‘‘ I have more to say to you.” 

Mr. Pulford followed her into the drawing-room. 
She led the way to a far corner, quite out of the 
hearing of possible eavesdroppers, and plunged at 
once into the subject she had at heart. 

I have made up my mind to our marriage, Hor- 
ace,” she said, graciously. But I am not willing to 
marry while I have this worse than sword of Damo- 
cles suspended above my head. These people have 
been up at that old house for seven months or so. 
You have not heard from them during that period. 
They may all be dead. Something may have hap- 
pened. There is no one you can send to look after 
matters there. Now, why shouldn’t you go up there 
yourself ?” 

Mr. Pulford started. 

If you go,” continued the widow, you can urge 
Jarvis to put an end to the imprisonment in the way 
I desire. You can learn how well your instructions 
have been carried out. You can — ” 

I am tempted to act upon your suggestion, Edith. 
The Jarvises really do need looking after,” inter 
rupted Pulford. I might go in the yacht, but my 
visit must be secret. I can journey by rail to Inver- 
ness, and take the remainder of the trip on horse- 
back. It will be a hard journey — ” 

But it will make everything safe.” 

I believe I’ll go,” said Pulford, falling into the 
trap she had laid for him. “ I’ll start to-morrow. 
The sooner I go, the sooner I shall return. I shall 
have to make the journey under pretence of visiting 


176 


Cecil Rosse, 


Greycourt. There are so many on the watch that 
some hostile eye may chance to be directed to my 
movements, therefore I shall be on my guard.” 

They discussed their plans for an hour or more 
and then Mr. Pulford, quite resolved to start for 
Scotland on the morrow, arose to take his leave. 

“ You will not hear from me until I return, Edith,” 
he said. Be very cautious. Go on with your 
preparations for the wedding. And now good-by.” 

He put his arm around her and kissed her, smiling 
maliciously as he saw that she shrank from him 
involuntarily in aversion. 

You had better employ my absence in studying 
submission to your fate,” he remarked, coolly. “ I 
am not a man to stand that sort of nonsense, Edith. 
If you have any consideration for your future wel- 
fare, you will cultivate a becoming regard for me 
without delay.” 

He kissed her again, and she forced herself to 
receive the caress with a good grace. Then he took 
his leave. 

“ I have played that game pretty well,” thought 
Lady Trevor, exultantly. He will get rid of the 
girl, just as I planned. Then I will get rid of him. 
My difficulties are smoothing out one by one. I 
shall have everything my own way yet.” 

And in high good humor, she glided up the broad 
stair to her own room. 

She would scarcely have been so much at her ease 
if she had known of the trial in store for her on the 
morrow- — of the intended visit of the supposed beg- 


Clearing the Way, 


177 


gar she had seen that evening on her steps with 
sickly face and shabby gown — of fate launching 
itself upon her in her smiling prosperity in the shape 
of Sarah Peters. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

AN OPPORTUNE APPEARANCE. 

When morning came — the morning after her 
arrival with Gretchen at the MacDougal farm- 
house — Cecil Rosse found herself unable to leave 
her bed. The exposures of the last few days, the 
over-exertion attendant upon her long flight, the 
chill and hardship, the terrible anxieties, added to 
the imprisonment and terrors that had preceded 
them, had been too much for the young girl, who 
had been so carefully nurtured and tenderly 
cherished in the old pastor’s house in the Black 
Forest. 

She found herself weak as an infant, racked with 
pains, and burning with a low, nervous fever. Her 
pulse was high and fierce, her eyes glowed like suns, 
but her mind was clear as ever, and even more than 
usually active. 

I can’t get up, Gretchen/’ she said, trying to 
speak bravely. “ I fear that I am ill !” 

The old woman’s frightened visage reflected the 
fear. She arose at once, paying no heed to the rheu- 
matic pains assailing her own tired body, dressed 
herself, and descended to the kitchen, 

[178] 




A 71 Opportune A ppeara7ice. 


179 


The family had long since risen and was hard at 
work. Gretchen's letter to Mr. Grafton had already 
been conveyed to the post. A great fire was burn- 
ing on the kitchen hearth, and Mrs. MacDougal was 
employed before it in some household task. She 
looked up, flushed with heat, smiling pleasantly as 
anxious Gretchen came in. 

Good morning,’' she said, politely. I hope you 
restit well, and the young lady ?” 

“ Very well, thank you ; but my young mistress is 
ill,” replied Gretchen. She has a high fever. Is 
there a doctor near ?” 

There is nay dochther within thirty miles, 
woman,” answered Mrs. MacDougal. But every 
woman in these pairts kens vera well how to treat 
ordinary diseases. I was aboot to prepare your par- 
ritch, thinking ye ’d soon be up. But I ’ll see your 
young lady before I get your breakfast. Elspeth !” 
she cried, raising her voice. “ Elspeth !” 

Her elder daughter made her appearance. 

‘‘Watch the parritch that it dinna burn,” com- 
manded the housewife. “ The young lady is ill. 
Now, woman, we’ll gae till her.” 

Mrs. MacDougal and Gretchen returned to the 
upper room. 

The former shook her head at sight of the small, 
flushed face on the white pillow, at the two lustrous, 
restless eyes, at the tender mouth, drawn with pain, 
and at the general air of helplessness. She felt 
Cecil’s pulse, questioned her as to her sensations, 
and said, with a look of relief : 

“ The puir young creature is worn oot, and is 


i8o 


Cecil Rosse. 


feverisli frae exhaustion. Simple remedies and 
plenty of rest are better in this case than a dochther 
with potions and bitter draughts. Trust to me, 
young lady. I'll bring ye oot o' this, only, I warn ye 
baith, ye'll not be gettin' up for a week or twa yet, 
Miss. By the time your frien' fra Lunnun cooms 
here ye'll be oop, I hope, and ready to see him." 

Cecil smiled gratefully. 

Will she be safe here for a week or two, madam ?" 
asked old Gretchen. ‘‘Mr. Jarvis will surely appear 
here before that time, and your husband may — " 

“ My husband will do as he hae said," interrupted 
Mrs. MacDougal. “We Hielan' people ken nae- 
thing o' fans Southern ways. If the man Jarvis 
Goom, he maun wait till your frien' hae a chance also 
to appear. Your letter is gane, so rest content, 
woman, and dinna disturb the mind o' your young 
mistress. She must hae quiet, ye understand." 

Gretchen assented. She had also considerable 
knowledge of ordinary diseases and simple remedies, 
like most elderly women in places remote from 
towns and resident physicians, and she was also an 
excellent nurse. Combining her wisdom with that 
of Mrs. MacDougal, the two began their quiet course 
of treatment immediately. Hot teas were adminis- 
tered to the patient, extra bedclothing was piled 
above her, and a great fire was kindled on the 
hearth, filling the room with warmth and delicious 
pine odors. 

When night came, the racking pains had left Cecil, 
but she was far weaker than before, and so tired 


An Opportune Appearance. i8i 


that she dropped into a slumber so long and so pro- 
found as to fill Gretchen with new alarm. 

The day had passed without incident. The next 
day, however, was not to be eventless. 

Cecil awakened free from fever and complaining 
only of languor. Her nurses would not permit her 
to rise. Elspeth brought her a bowl of hot spiced 
drink and a tempting breakfast. Mrs. MacDougal 
was constant and tender in her ministrations. The 
gentle, uncomplaining girl, so grateful for her kind- 
ness, had won the housewife’s heart. 

At noon, according to custom, the family gathered 
around the dinner-table, in the roomy old kitchen. 
They were half through the meal when the loud 
barking of dogs in the yard, and the sound of a horse’s 
hoofs, announced an arrival. 

The farmer arose and went to the door. 

A man had just ridden up on a lame pony, and 
was in the act of dismounting when MacDougal 
appeared upon the threshold. 

The man was Jarvis. 

Uncombed, haggard, wild in his appearance. Miss 
Rosse’s enemy looked as formidable as a gaunt and 
hungry wolf that has been cheated of his prey. 
His small eyes glared about him suspiciously. He 
moved stiffly toward the door, raising his hat, his 
gait and carriage betraying his fatigue. His man- 
ner w^as full of eagerness. He believed that he 
should find the objects of his search at this house, 
or in the hamlet hard by. Judging by his own 
exhaustion, he did not believe that Cecil or Gretchen 


i 82 


Cecil Rosse, 


could have yet continued their journey beyond this 
point. 

Good-day, sir,'' he said, politely raising his hat. 

My name is Graham — Doctor Graham — " 

“ And mine is MacDougal," interrupted the High- 
lander. ‘‘Willum MacDougal." 

have traveled hard and far," said Jarvis, 
sniffing at the savory odors that came from the 
kitchen. My beast is gone lame, and I am myself 
used up. If you will give me a good dinner, I will 
pay well for it." 

“The MacDougals never turned ane, gentle or 
simple, frae their dure," responded the farmer, 
proudly. “ Ye're welcome, mon, to the bite and sup 
ye wad hae. Coom in ! Coom in !" 

He retreated into the room, making place for 
Jarvis, who followed him. 

“ Here’s a docther, mither," he announced to the 
housewife, who had risen. “Ye were wanting a 
docther, ye ken, and here he is." 

Jarvis made a bow, and exclaimed : 

“Yet, I am a doctor, but perhaps not the kind 
you want, if any of your family is ill. I doctor the 
mind, not the body. I keep a retreat for the insane 
at Incledon, on the west coast." 

“A mad-docther !" ejaculated Elspeth. 

“Just so. Miss," said Jarvis. “I have twenty 
patients at my retreat, but two of them escaped a 
few days ago and I am in search of them. I am 
very much afraid they will perish among the hills, if 
they have not already. Have you seen anything of 
two wandering women, on ponies without saddles — 


A 11 Opportune A ppearance. 


183 


one of the women being a girl as pretty as a pictur', 
with a kind of sorrowful face, and the other an old 
foreign woman ?" he asked. 

Mrs. MacDougaVs countenance betrayed her 
knowledge of the women in question. 

Ye are the mon Jairvis, I doot not,'' she 
exclaimed. “ But ye'll not get the lassie nor yet the 
auld woman, mind that." 

Hoot, wife," said MacDougal, more cautious 
than his spouse. “ We’ll hearken to baith sides, 
like the righteous joodge. Are ye the mon 
Jairvis ?" he asked abruptly, turning to his visitor. 

I never heard the name before," replied Jarvis. 

I am Doctor Graham. I see you have seen them 
runaways. I knows their stories and tricks. The 
girl especially would deceive a saint. P'raps your 
good lady, Mr. MacDougal, means to take up for 
them poor lunatics. I hopes you will weigh well 
what you do. If you detain a crazy person — let 
alone two on ’em — from their lawful guardians and 
keepers, the law will punish you severely." 

We hae nay intention of detaining loonatics frae 
their lawfu' keepers and guardeens," responded 
MacDougal, bewildered and not knowing what to 
believe, yet desirous of being upon the side of the 
law. “ The lassie and the auld woman are in this 
hoose at this very minute — " 

Here ?" interrupted Jarvis, his eyes flashing. 

Here," repeated MacDougal. “ They tell ane 
story, ye tell anither. Who can decide between 
ye ?” 


184 


Cecil Rosse, 


^‘You can call a jury of your neighbors,” said 
Jarvis, eagerly. ‘‘Let them decide.” 

“ There’ll be nay jury the day,” interrupted Mrs. 
MacDougal, with spirit. “ The lassie lies in bed 
oop-stair, not able to rise hersel. She’ll nay be 
movin’ for a week yet. And we hae promised to 
gie her a chance to prove her words, and Willum 
MacDougal will ne’er go back o’ his word. The 
lassie and the auld woman shall be protectit in this 
hoose until they can hear frae their friends. Ye 
maun be Docther Graham and not the mon 
Jairvis ; they maun be loonatics and not what we 
hae taken them for ; but they hae our word, and 
they shall hae our protection until they can hear 
frae Lunnon.” 

This declaration appeared to meet with the 
approval of the entire household with the exception 
of its head. The farmer, with more than his share 
of caution, did not wish to offend this stranger, 
whose tale might be true, nor did he wish to render 
himself liable to the penalty of the law. Yet, hav- 
ing a wholesome awe of the “ gudewife,” who could 
certainly render him extremely uncomfortable if 
she so desired, he resolved to temporize. 

“ We dinna doot ye, mon !” he said, prudently. 
“ If I hadna gi’ed my word I’d gie the women up to 
ye. But surely ye can prove what ye say. The 
vera friends of these women maun confairm your 
statements. Sae, when the friends coom — ” 

Jarvis had been completely overcome by the 
possibilities thus hinted at. 


An Opportnne Appearance, 185 


‘‘Do you mean,” he gasped, growing pale, “that 
the girl has writted to London ?” 

“ Aye,” was the farmer’s response. “ It’s a’ the 
same. The old woman wrote, and the letter went 
in the mail to-day. If their friends coom for them, 
Dochther, ye can settle ’t wi’ them.” 

Jarvis looked blank at this suggestion. 

If Cecil or Gretchen had written to London ruin 
certainly stared him in the face. The police were 
looking for him in the metropolis on account of 
some crime he had committed. If the prisoners 
escaped him, Pulford would refuse to pay him, the 
police would pursue and capture him, and instead of 
realizing the airy dreams he had lately cherished, he 
would be sent to prison. 

Notwithstanding his dismay and terror, he 
maintained a calm exterior. He had some days 
before him. It would go hard with him if he did 
not outwit this obstinate Scot and his spirited wife, 
and carry out his nefarious project to its awful 
conclusion. 

“ I’ll kill the girl and the old woman, and so shut 
their mouths,” he thought, rapidly. “ And then I’ll 
go back to the coast, get the old woman and Maria, 
and take another route to Lunnon. Once there. I’ll 
get my reward, hush up that charge against me, 
and begin life again !” 

He called all his cunning to his aid. 

“ Your proposition seems fair enough, Mr. Mac. 
Dougal,” he exclaimed. “ It will be a week before 
any one can arrive here from London. I am will- 
ing to wait to meet the friends of this young lady, 


Cecil Rosse. 


i86 


Miss Rosse. They will swear to what I’ve said. 
They’ll tell you I’m an honest man, a doctor, and 
the keeper of a mad-house. They’ll tell you that 
this young lady went mad for love, and that, while 
she seems all right in her mind, she’s as dangerous 
as a mad dog. The old woman is more dangerous 
yet. I hope neither on ’em ’ll harm your kind 
fam’ly, Mr. MacDougal. Yes, if Miss Rosse hadn’t 
sent for her friends, I should have insisted on doing 
so !” 

The farmer looked surprised. He leaned still 
more in his own mind toward the side of the pre- 
tended doctor. 

‘‘And now,” said Jarvis, cheerfully, “while I 
wait here, what am I to do ? I left my asylum in 
such a hurry, being the two women had run away, 
that I didn’t bring no great sum of money with me. 
But I can pay for accommodations. Will you 
keep me until Miss Rosse’s friends come and we can 
settle this here question ?” 

MacDougal was hospitable and would have 
esteemed himself wanting in the commonest virtues 
if he had refused to keep Jarvis, in addition to his 
other guests. The housewife, in her desire to thor- 
oughly protect and comfort Cecil and her servant, 
would have sent the man to a neighbor, but a glance 
at her husband’s face stifled her remonstrances. 

“ Hear baith sides,” said MacDougal, keeping to 
his text. “Ye can stay, mon. If ye are honest and 
true, ye’ll find friends here. But if ye are faus, I 
warn ye to leave now. We Hielan’ men are rough 
toward scoundrels !” 


A n Opportune A ppearance. 


187 


Jarvis protested his good faith and good char- 
acter. 

Ye can stay/' said the Highlander. Elspeth, 
lassie, lay anither dish. Sit down, mon, to the 
table !" 

Jarvis obeyed the injunction and took his place at 
the table. The family resumed their seats, and the 
meal progressed. 

It was nearly concluded when Gretchen entered 
the kitchen upon some trivial errand. Her amaze- 
ment and terror at sight of Jarvis caused her to beat 
a precipitate retreat. 

Mrs. MacDougal followed her up the stair and 
reiterated her promises of protection, and enjoined 
her to say nothing to Miss Rosseof Jarvis' presence 
in the house, since an alarih would retard her 
recovery. 

Gretchen promised, but to attempt to maintain 
secrecy cost her a severe effort. She knew well 
that Jarvis would not quietly remain at the farm- 
house to await the arrival of a man who would 
inevitably expose him as a villain. She knew that 
Jarvis must have some wicked plan in his mind, 
against which she must be on her guard. 

That night Gretchen barricaded the door of her 
room. Somewhere about midnight she heard steal- 
thy movements outside, and knew that her enemy 
was seeking admittance. Her sharp outcry, while 
it aroused no one else in the house, sent him skulk- 
ing to his room, baffled and infuriated. 

The week passed slowly. Cecil grew better with 
every day, and sat up for hours together in her own 


Cecil Rosse, 


1 88 


room. Her recovery was very rapid, thanks to the 
elasticity of youth and a sound physical constitution. 
In a day or two more she expected to be able to 
resume her journey. 

During these days Jarvis had watched for an 
opportunity to creep in upon the two women and 
silence their tongues forever. But Gretchen con- 
trived to keep Elspeth MacDougal nearly always in 
Cecil's room, and he watched in vain. 

The time was drawing near when the appearance 
of Miss Rosse's friend might be confidently ex- 
pected at any moment. 

Ye’ll not hae to wait much longer, Dochther,” 
said MacDougal, one evening, just before the light 
dusk closed in upon the valley. Miss Rosse’s 
Lunnon friend should be here the morrow.” 

Jarvis arose and sauntered out of doors. 

To-morrow !” he repeated, darkly. Then I 
have only to-night. I must do my work to-night !” 

He walked along the country road, meditating, 
and revolving plans in his own mind. 

Presently he paused. A horseman was coming at 
a swinging pace through the hamlet without stop- 
ping, apparently making for the hills beyond. 

Jarvis stepped aside. The horseman was about 
to pass on, but changed his mind and drew rein 
abruptly. 

Can you tell me, my man, if the roads through 
the mountain passes are in good condition, and safe 
for night travel I” he asked, in a high, imperative 
voice. 


An Opportune Appearance. 


189 


Jarvis started in amaze, and came nearer, peering 
through the pale shadows at the horseman. 

By heavens V* he exclaimed, jubilantly. “It’s Mr. 
Pulford! Don’t you know me, sir, Jarvis? — Jarvis, 
as you suppose is as Black Rock ? You’ve come in 
the very nick of time ! The devil himself must have 
sent you !” 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE PLOT WORKS. 

The amazement of Pulford at the rencontre, which 
was as startling as it was unexpected, fully equalled 
that of Jarvis. He uttered an ejaculation expressive 
of utter bewilderment, and leaned from his horse, 
peering into the face of the ruffian with alarmed 
recognition. 

“ You here ?” he exclaimed. You 

“It's really me, Gov’nor !” exclaimed Jarvis. 
“ And I never was so glad to see anyone in my life 
as I am to set eyes on you. The Old Nick himself 
must have sent you. And it’s the finst streak of luck 
I’ve had these two weeks !” 

“ Has anything happened ?” 

“ Everything has happened. The fat is all in the 
fire. If you’re on your way to Black Rock, you 
needn’t go no further. I am here, and the gal is 
here — ” 

Mr. Pulford interrupted him by a malediction that 
would have startled any man less hardened than the 
scoundrel who listened to him. Then he hastily 
slipped from his saddle, demanding again what had 
happened. 

[190] 



The Plot Works. 


191 


The girl here!’' he exclaimed. What do you 
mean ? Speak out, man !” 

“ That’s what I am trying to do, sir. Miss Rosse 
and the old woman escaped from Black Rock. They 
are as cunning as Lucifer, that’s what they are. 
And the trick they played on us, a-letting them- 
selves down out of a three-story winder, was total 
unexpected, the dogs being hitched under the wagon 
at the time, ready for travel, and not, therefore, 
being around to hinder — ” 

“ Escaped ? The girl and her servant escaped ? 
And here ?” 

“ In that house over yonder,” declared Jarvis, 
pointing toward the low thatched farmhouse of 
MacDougal. “ She came here, and I came in pur- 
suit. She’s been here a week or more. I’ve tried 
every earthly means to get hold on ’em — ” 

Mr. Pulford uttered another fierce oath. 

Then he questioned his confederate sharply and 
keenly. Jarvis replied by giving a full narrative of 
the occurrences of the past few weeks. 

I was just gettin’ desprit, Guv’nor,” he con- 
tinued. The gal has writ to some friend in Lon- 
don to come a’ ter her, and her friend is expected 
here to-morrow. What I was to do I didn’t know, 
only I meant to make a bold strike to-night.” 

‘‘ She expects a friend to-morrow ! What 
friend ?” 

‘‘ You ought to know that better’n me. The friend 
is a man, of course, that’s all I know.” 

Mr. Pulford refiected. He knew well that Miss 
Rosse had few acquaintances in London, and that 


192 


Cecil Rosse. 


Gretchen must have appealed for help either to 
Lord Glenham or Maldred Grafton. 

“You are right, Jarvis,'' he exclaimed. “ The old 
Nick himself must have sent me up here at this par- 
ticular time. We must make a bold strike to-night. 
To-morrow will be too late. I stopped over a day at 
Inverness, and Miss Rosse's friend may have been 
close upon my track. He may even arrive here to- 
night." 

“ He may, Guv'nor. Calculating close, he ought 
to have been here to-day." 

Mr. Pulford again gave himself up to thought. 
His fertile brain presently originated a striking idea, 
which he hastened to impart to his companion. 

“ 111 ride on to the farmhouse," he said, “ and 
present myself to the worthy MacDougal as Miss 
Rosse's expected friend from London." 

“ You, Gov'nor ?" 

“ I. And I'll corroborate all your statements, 
Jarvis. The girl must be delivered up into your 
keeping." 

Jarvis expressed assent. 

“ I came up here on purpose to put her ouf of the 
way altogether," said Pulford, in a lower tone. “As 
long as this girl lives she will be a source of danger 
and trouble to us. Even all your vigilance has not 
availed to keep her in the prison we provided for 
her. Now, suppose that she were to die to-night 1 
I should hand you in the morning a roll of money^ 
the reward I promised you, and you could go where 
you will, independent and well provided for." 


The Plot Works, 


193 


It’d be a good job for me, that’s so. Only how’s 
the thing to be did ?” 

Pulford replied by unfolding a diabolical plan, 
which met the full approval of his villainous ally. 

“ You’ve got a head for business, Guv’nor,” said 
Jarvis, admiringly. ‘‘Jest make the thing a little 
plainer, and I’ll undertake to carry it through.” 

They talked for some time further, developing 
Pulford’s scheme in all its hideous details. Then 
Pulford remounted and rode on toward the farm- 
house, leaving Jarvis to follow later. 

The MacDougal family was gathered in the 
great kitchen. A big fire blazed on the hearth, the 
night being chilly. Mrs. MacDougal sat at her 
spinning wheel, hard at work. Elspeth was winding 
yarn from a reel. The younger daughter was sew- 
ing, while the buxom housemaid was knitting 
stockings. Even the men were employed, in repair- 
ing harness and farm implements and all these em- 
ployments were carried on by the firelight, aided 
by the glimmer of one tallow candle. 

Mr. Pulford rode into the yard, dismounted, and 
knocked upon the door with the handle of his riding- 
whip. The farmer bade him enter, and he opened 
the door and stepped over the threshold. 

His appearance declared him a gentleman. As 
he removed his hat, bowing, MacDougal and his 
family arose, greeting him respectfully. 

“ Is this the house of Mr. MacDougal ?” asked 
Pulford. 

MacDougal replied in the affirmative. 

“ I received a letter from Miss Rosse’s servant,” 


194 


Cecil Rosse. 


said Pulford, easily, “ begging me to come to 
them — ’ ' 

“An' ye’re welcome, sir, right welcome,” inter- 
rupted Mrs. MacDougal, impulsively. “We 
expected ye the day, sir. Elspeth, place a chair. 
Coom up to the fire, sir. Dinna stan* there by the 
dure.” 

“We're glad to see ye, sir,” said the farmer. 
“ The young lady were getting troubled wi' the 
waiting. This be gude news for her, puir young 
creetur'.” 

The family entertaining no doubt that this was 
the “ friend ” so anxiously expected by Miss Rosse, 
pressed their hospitalities upon the stranger. One 
of the men went out to care for his horse. Mr. 
Pulford sat down in a high-backed, rush- bottomed 
chair at the corner of the hearth, declining politely 
the offers of refreshment urged upon him. 

“ I had my supper at a farmhouse a few miles 
back,'” he declared. “ I am too anxious about Miss 
Rosse to think of anything beside her. Is she 
well ?” 

“ She hae been vera ill !” said Mrs. MacDougal. 
“Vera ill, sir, but thanks to a mercifu’ Providence, 
she's abbot well now. I will tell her you've 
coom — ” 

“ Not yet, if you please. I wish to ask you a few 
questions first, madam — ” 

“And I hae something to say, also,” said the 
farmer, respectfully. “ The young lady cam' here 
wi' her servant, without ony attendant whatever. 
The twa were mounted on ponies that were 


T he Plot W orks. 


195 


exhausted wi' fatigue. The young lady fainted, an' 
I carried her in til the hoose in my arms. They had 
traveled lang an' far, puir souls. We made them 
comfortable, sir, an' welcome." 

Ay, that we did," said Mrs. MacDougal. An' 
a gentler, sweeter lady never lived than Miss 
Rosse !" 

She told us," continued the farmer, that she 
hae been confined for months in a auld haunted 
hoose ca'ed the Black Rock hoose, whilk belonged 
to the last o’ the Cathcairns. An' she said that she 
had an enemy whilk was on her track. Sure enoo, 
the next day a mon appeared saying his name was 
Docther Graham, and the twa puir women were 
loony-patients escaped frae his mad-hoose at Incle- 
don. Sae I hae listened to baith sides, an’ not being 
able to joodge between the twa stories, I bade 
Docther Graham wait until I could hear fra Miss 
Rosse’s friends. Miss Rosse says that the docther 
is no docther, but a mon named Jairvis. He has 
behavit vera well. We has seen nathing wrang in 
him." 

^‘An’ we hae vSeen nae madness in her," said 
Mrs. MacDougal. 

Yet the man’s story is the true one," said Mr. 
Pulford, with a long-drawn sigh. “ He must be 
Doctor Graham of Incledon, a peculiar but most 
estimable person." 

Then he is nae the mon Jairvis ?" 

I never heard that name,” said Mr. Pulford. I 
know no such person. Miss Rosse is really insane. 
She was disappointed in love and went melancholy 


196 


Cecil Rosse. 


mad, and her friends sent her to Incledon, thinking 
that the bracing air, the solitude, and excellent 
treatment, for which that retreat is celebrated, 
might restore her to health. As to the woman 
Gretchen, who shares her delusions, I know nothing 
about her. She is probably some patient who has 
attached herself to my poor niece — ” 

“ Then the young lady is your niece, sir ?" 

Mr. Pulford bowed gravely. 

Of course,'* said he, “ I was surprised to receive 
a letter from the German woman in regard to my 
young relative, but as I had heard from the senior 
doctor of the Incledon retreat, that Miss Rosse had 
escaped, I came on at once.” 

The MacDougals expressed their wonder and 
surprise at Pulford’s declarations. Every member 
of the family had been so deeply impressed with the 
beauty and sweetness of Miss Rosse that they had 
instinctively espoused her cause against Jarvis. 
They did not dream of doubting Pulford's word. 
They believed him to be the friend Gretchen had 
summoned, and considered his testimony decisive. 

They had not overcome the stupor produced by 
the stranger's unwelcome declarations when Jarvis 
came swaggering in. 

He started at sight of Pulford, counterfeiting 
amazement. His employer arose and advanced 
toward him, stretching out his hand and exclaim- 
ing : 

Ah, Doctor, it is you, then ? How do you do, 
sir ? This is a most unpleasant surprise, seeing you 
here !” 


The Plot Works. 


197 


An unpleasant surprise to me, sir, said Jarvis, 
shaking the hand extended to him. “ I fear you 
will deem me neglectful, sir, for allowin' the gal to 
get the start o' me in this here fashion." 

‘‘We certainly owe a great deal of gratitude to 
this worthy family. Doctor," said Pulford, “ for their 
care of my poor niece, and their hospitality to your- 
self." 

“ Miss Rosse is oop an' dressed," said Mrs. Mac- 
Dougal, completely bewildered. “ Shall I ca' her, 
sir ? Wad ye like to see her ?" 

“ Not to-night, madam," said Pulford, who did not 
wish to see either Cecil or Gretchen at all. “ I am 
fatigued, and would like to be spared the trial. 
But if you can kindly accommodate me for the 
night, I will see my poor niece in the morning, and 
then remove her from your hospitable roof.'^ 

“ He is right," said the farmer. “ Let the young 
lady pass a quiet night. An’ i' the morning let her 
gae away peaceable. That is the best plan, wife. 
Ye can mak' oop a bed for the gentleman, nae doot ?" 

The housewife assented. She had already 
planned in her own mind to give up the chamber 
of her daughters to this stranger, and compel them 
to resort to a “ shake-down ” upon the kitchen floor. 
She was about to take Elspeth aside to communi- 
cate this decision, when old Gretch«n entered the 
kitchen. 

The old woman had heard Pulford’s arrival, and 
had waited impatiently with her young mistress in 
the hope of a speedy summons to the kitchen. The 
idea of both the fugitives was that Crafton had 


Cecil Rosse, 


198 


come in obedience to Gretchen’s appeal. At last, 
tinable to bear the suspense any longer, the old 
woman had come below upon a visit of investiga- 
tion. 

She halted upon the threshold, her heart beating 
wildly. The light in the kitchen blinded her after 
the darkness of the passage. She saw a group of 
persons, but could not make out one face or figure 
distinctly, owing to the blur that suddenly obscured 
her vision. 

It is nae longer possible to keep the matter till 
morning frae these puir women,'’ said the younger 
Miss MacDougal. Gretchen, come this way. 
Here is the frien’ wha ye vrrit yere letter to. He is 
just coom.” 

Gretchen put her hand to Jier heart. Her rugged 
old face was transfigured with her great joy and 
relief. 

“ Mr. Grafton !” she gasped. 

Pulford set his face in a stern and rigid expression. 
He arose and moved a step toward the old woman, 
and the light fell full upon his florid face and long 
sandy beard and full, heavy features. Gretchen 
turned pale. Shq had expected to behold the dark, 
thin visage of Grafton. She recognized Pulford at 
the first glance, and a thrill of terror, unaccountable 
to herself, since she did not suspect him of being the 
secret enemy of Miss Rosse, went through her at the 
recognition. 

Is this the companion of my poor niece T' asked 
Pulford, coolly. 

This is she !” replied MacDougal. She ca’s 


The Plot Works. 


199 


hersel’ the servant o' Miss Rosse. The twa seem to 
think the worh o’ each ither !” 

‘‘ They did at the retreat,” said Jarvis. It was a 
singular attachment for two as never met till they 
met in my asylum, when Miss Rosse was brought 
there. The old woman had been there many years 
— a charity patient.” 

Gretchen looked from Jarvis to Mr. Pulford with 
a wild appeal. 

Pulford’s face was a study at that moment. He 
had schooled himself to the task he had in hand. 
The sternness and rigidity had deserted his fea- 
tures ; he looked compassionate, kindly, wondering. 
He regarded the poor old woman as if she had been 
an utter stranger to him, and shrank slightly from 
her as if he considered her a dangerous maniac. 

Gretchen was bewildered by the mixed expression 
of Pulford’s countenance, but, more than all, by his 
unlooked-for presence in that Highland farmhouse. 

Mr. Pulford I” she exclaimed. ‘‘ It don’t seem 
possible ! You here, sir ! Oh, sir, I don’t know 
how it happens that you are here, unless you have 
discovered the treachery that was practised upon my 
young mistress ! I was sure that you and Lady Tre- 
vor would make inquiry after my poor Miss Cecil — ” 

“ I don’t understand you, my good woman,” inter- 
rupted Pulford. You have mistaken my name. I 
am Mr. Grafton !” 

Gretchen staggered back a pace. 

Do you deny that you are the gentleman we saw 
at Lady Trevor’s house ?” she exclaimed, sharply. 
‘‘ Do you deny that you are Mr. Pulford, and that 


200 


Cecil Rosse. 


you met us at Gravesend and put us on board the 
yacht ? Do you deny — 

Pulford put up his hand in a gesture that silenced 
her. 

<< My good woman/' he said coolly, “ I never saw 
you before in my life !" 

Gretchen put one hand to her head, and stood 
amazed. 

“ Poor creature,” said Pulford. “ She's mad, doc- 
tor — mad as a March hare 1'' 

Gretchen stood for one moment, wild and incred- 
ulous, her face white, her breath gasping. Pulford 's 
denial of ever having seen her before overwhelmed 
her with amazement and consternation. She saw 
that the MacDougals began to regard her askance. 
She comprehended her own peril and that of her 
young mistress, now that Pulford had espoused the 
cause of Jarvis, but she gave no thought to it. A 
flood of suspicion poured suddenly in upon the old 
woman's soul. She drew up her heavy old flgure ; 
her withered face kindled ; her gray old eyes flashed 
like drawn steel in the sunlight ; a mighty indigna- 
tion took possession of her. 

‘‘ I see !'' she cried, her voice ringing through the 
old kitchen, pointing her long and bony forefinger 
at Pulford with stern accusing. ‘‘ You are in league 
with Jarvis. You are his employer ! It is you, Mr. 
Pulford, who are the secret enemy of my young mis- 
tress. It is you who caused her to be taken to Black 
Rock — you who plotted to destroy her life — you who 
bribed this wretch to kill her ! Coward ! Murderer ! 
Assassin ! I have found you out at last !'' 



CHAPTER XVITI. 

MRS. peters’ visit. 

Lady Trevor sat alone in her morning-room. It 
was the morning after her visit to the theatre. Mr. 
Pulford had already started for Scotland; and the 
widow was meditating darkly upon the probable 
success of his nefarious scheme, and the reward she 
meant to bestow upon him in lieu of her hand in 
marriage. 

She was thus engaged, when a servant entered 
with the announcement that a poor woman named 
Peters wished to see her. 

“ I don’t see beggars !” said Lady Trevor, haugh- 
tily. “ You ought to know better than to bring such 
a message to me, Tompkins.” 

The servant retreated in confusion, but presently 
returned, deprecating and humble, but bearing a 
salver on which lay a soiled card. 

“If you please, my lady,” he said, “the woman 
says as her business is most important, and as you’d 
see her if you knew who she was. This is her card.” 

“ Some servant I once employed, perhaps,” said 

[201] 



202 


Cecil Rosse. 


Lady Trevor. I can’t see her, Tompkins. I won’t 
be disturbed. Stay— let me see the card.” 

Her jeweled fingers daintily touched the scrap of 
pasteboard, and her ladyship put up her gold- 
mounted eye-glass to survey it. She read simply 
these words : 

Mrs Sarah Peters, of Baden-Baden, wishes to 
speak about ‘ Mrs. Nelson.’ ” 

The card dropped to the floor. Lady Trevor’s 
hand fell to her side. The servant did not see the 
frightened, startled, desperate look that leaped to 
her eyes. There was a brief silence. He retreated, 
trembling, toward the door, anticipating a storm of 
anger. But Lady Trevor said very quietly, and he 
did not notice that her voice was strangely hoarse : 

It is an old servant, as I surmised. Show her 
up, Tompkins. And see that I am not interrupted 
while she is here.” 

Tompkins withdrew and ushered in the visitor. 
Then he retreated, closing the door behind him. 

Lady Trevor arose slowly, confronting Mrs. Peters. 
The visitor was shabbily dressed, as on the previous 
day. Her gait was shambling, but she advanced 
boldly, her sickly face flushed with a sort of exulta- 
tion which her ladyship did not fail to mark. 

You wished to see me, Mrs. — ah — Mrs. Peters ?” 
said Lady Trevor, pushing the card into view with 
the toe of a rosetted slipper, and regarding it again 
with her eye-glass. 


Mrs, Peters Visit. 


203 ^ 


I wished to see you, Mrs. Nelson, otherwise Lady 
Trevor,'' said Mrs. Peters. 

Lady Trevor started. 

What do you mean by calling me Mrs. Nelson ?" 
she demanded. 

That was the name I knew you by in Germany, 
fifteen years ago. You seem to have forgotten me, 
madam." 

“You are laboring under some strange mistake* 
You have taken me for some one else, Mrs. Peters." 

“ No, I haven’t, I could never forget them eyes. 
You look hardly a year older than you did then, Mrs. 
Nelson — " 

“ I am Lady Trevor — be good enough to remem- 
ber that !” said her ladyship, imperiously. 

“ It’s natural for me to call you by the name you 
told me was your’n," said Mrs. Peters, seating her" 
self upon a low marquise chair, and stretching out 
her large ill-shod feet upon the polished silver fen- 
der, with the air of one very much at home. “ I 
saw you in the park, yesterday, a-riding in your 
carriage, and dressed to kill, looking like a doll 
that's made to wear fine clothes and be carried 
about. And I sat there on a bench in these here 
clothes, a-looking on at the fine folks, jist as if I was 
made of some dreadful infer’or clay." 

“ You saw me ?" said Lady Trevor, forcing herself 
to speak calmly. “ And so you resolved to come 
and ask me for help ? Is that what you want to 
say ?" 

“ That is what I thought yesterday," replied Mrs. 
Peters, a little sullenly. “ But since then I've got 


204 


Cecil Rosse. 


more light. Do you suppose that because I’m poor 
IVe got no natural feeling ? I want to aslc you 
about the child. Don’t ask what child. If you try 
to play off ignorant, and that you are not the woman 
I knew at Baden-Baden as Mrs. Nelson, I will go to 
Lord St. Leonards, as is your grandfather, and ask 
him where the child is.” 

Lady Trevor sat down in her chair suddenly, as if 
deprived of strength. Her hard and desperate eyes 
were turned away from Mrs. Peters’ inquisitive 
gaze, but the visitor saw that the lady’s lips set 
themselves together in a fierce tense line, and that 
the lady’s brows contracted in an ominous frown. 

There was a long silence between the pair. Mrs. 
Peters toasted her feet on the fender and watched 
the steam arising from her wet shoes, and now and 
then fixed a curious glance upon Lady Trevor, who 
sat like a statue, with that fixed frown on her brows, 
and her set lips strangely silent and motionless. 

In truth, she was struggling with emotions such 
as the visitor could never have understood. Her 
soul was the scene of conflicting passions, terror, 
anxiety, fear and despair. She was trying to con- 
sider how best to deal with this new trouble assail- 
ing her — ^how to rid herself of this woman, whose 
tongue must be silenced. 

I say,” said Mrs. Peters at length, tiring of the 
stillness, where is the child ?” 

It’s dead !” said her ladyship, huskily, not mov- 
ing. 

“ Dead ?” repeated Mrs. Peters. 

Did you think it promised a long life ?” said 


Mrs, Peters Visit. 


205 


Lady Trevor, with a sneer. Was it so healthy 
that you anticipated for it a good old age ?” 

“ Why, no. The child was sickly from its birth. 
The doctor said it had marasmus. It sort o' pined 
and wasted away from the very beginning, but then 
you said that good living and good doctring might 
bring it out, after all." 

Well, they didn't." 

I’ve often wondered," said Mrs. Peters, why a 
rich lady, newly married as you seemed to be, not 
much above twenty years old, should have wished 
to adopt a little sickly child like mine. To be sure 
the child was pretty, if I do say it, with her little 
fair face and brown curls and bright, soft eyes, so 
uftcomplaining and gentle always, and at the time I 
believed you had took a fancy to her, you and Mr. 
Nelson, which was Sir Albert Trevor, I suppose. I 
thought that perhaps you could do more for her 
than I could, and perhaps some of the great doctors 
might cure her." 

Lady Trevor moved uneasily, but did not answer. 

“ I should never have let her go if I hadn’t been 
situated just as I was, and if I hadn't believed I 
was acting for the child’s good," continued Mrs. 
Peters. ‘‘My husband was valet to an English 
gentleman as had took up his residence at Baden. 
My husband wrote to me to come to him, as the 
change of air might help the child, and as his mis- 
tress wanted a lady’s maid, and he thought she 
might take me. But when I arrived, my husband 
said I must put the child out in some cheap farm- 
house. with one of them German women as can’t 


2o6 


Cecil Rosse, 


speak English. Of course I refused. Then we 
quarreled terrible. The child was in our way. 
What to do I didn’t know. I was as near desper- 
ate in them days as ever I was in my life. I 
wanted the situation offered me, but I couldn’t part 
with the child to her detriment. I used to wish 
that she and I could die together and slip out of all 
the trouble !” added Mrs. Peters, with a sigh. 

And it was then that Providence, as I thought, 
came to my relief !” 

Lady Trevor opened her lips to speak, but her 
voice did not issue from them. 

“ I was sitting on a bench in the avenue leading 
to the Conversation Haus, with the child in my 
arms, a-listening to the band one afternoon,” contin- 
ued Mrs. Peters, in that despair as I wished I was 
dead, when an English gentleman stopped and 
spoke to me and asked about the child. I remem- 
ber him perfectly. He had a squint-like in one eye, 
and a mole on one cheek, and was fair, and looked 
as if he were rich. He asked particular about the 
child’s age, and had her stand up while he ques- 
tioned me about her height and the color of her eyes 
and hair. Then the first I knew, I was telling him 
all my trouble, that my husband was angry because 
I wouldn’t send little Fanny away to die among 
strangers, and that I had no money for doctors. 
The gentleman listened and asked me to bring the 
child to his lodgings that evening, and to ask for 
Mr. Nelson.” 

“ I know — I know — ” 

“ I went, not knowing but his lady might take me 


Afrs. Peters Visit, 


207 


for her servant and allow me to keep the child with 
me. I found the lodgings very quiet and respect- 
able. You were there in the parlor, and the gentle- 
man called you Mrs. Nelson. He offered to adopt 
the child as his own. You told me that she should 
have the best care and doctoring money could buy. 
It seemed to me as if the whole thing was providen- 
tial. I never stopped to ask any .questions, nor to 
consult my husband, but accepted all your state- 
ments as truth, and consented to give you my child. 
When I went away that night, I left little Fanny 
with you.” 

It is not necessary to repeat all this.”’ 

I went back to my lodgings that night, rejoicing 
over little Fanny’s good fortune,” said Mrs. Peters, 
unheeding the impatient interruption. “ The next 
morning I went and told my husband, and applied 
for the place of lady’s maid, as was still vacant. My 
husband questioned me, and finally went with me 
to the house where I had seen you. You were gone, 
and the child was gone too. 

‘‘ The landlady said that Mr. Nelson had hired the 
rooms on the previous day, paying a week in 
advance, that neither he nor his lady had brought 
any luggage, and that they had gone out late in the 
evening, soon after I left them, and taken the child 
with them saying that they would set out for Eng- 
land that very night. Thomas, my husband, could 
find no trace of the Nelsons or the child. The 
thing grew to be a terrible mystery to us. I got 
my situation, we lived abroad for years, and then 
came back to England. Other children were born 


2o8 


Cecil Rosse. 


to us, and last year my husband died, but in all 
these years I never forgot little Fanny, nor lost all 
hope of seeing you again. And now we have met 
at last.’’ 

What can you have to say to me, now that we 
have met ?” demanded Lady Trevor. I neither 
deny nor acknowledge in so many words that I am 
the woman you knew as Mrs. Nelson. But if I am, 
you can have no claim upon me — the child being 
dead.” 

Can I not have ? When and where did she die ?” 

On the Continent.” 

Did she die in Paris ?” 

Lady Trevor did not answer. 

‘‘ I have heard how you came into your great for- 
tune through the death of your little step-sister, the 
Lady Alba Ravendale,” said Mrs. Peters. “ I can’t 
prove nothing, but I suspect a most stupendous 
fraud—” 

“ Woman !” 

I suspect,” said Mrs. Peters, calmly, that you 
took my poor, little, sickly child and passed her off 
as the little Lady Alba. I suspect that the child 
who died in Paris, and was brought to England and 
buried in the vault of the Marquis of St. Leonards, 
was my ovn sickly little Fanny. Perhaps the real 
Lady Alba was poisoned beforehand. Perhaps the 
real Lady Alba is alive to-day — ” 

Woman ! how dare you speak such words to 
me ?” 

“ I think all these things, but I can’t prove ’em — ” 

I should think you could not. If you dared 


M rs. Peters ’ Visit. 


209 


charge me with such a crime in the hearing of other 
people I’d have you sent to prison. Do you know 
what rank and wealth and influence can do ? I can 
crush you as I would a worm !” 

Perhaps so,” said the seamstress ; but if I could 
prove what I suspect, I’d defy you, and go to Lord 
St. Leonards this very morning with my story. I’m 
an honest woman, although I’m poor. I would be 
no party to a fraud, my Lady Trevor. But I cannot 
be certain. If Lord St. Leonards were to ask me 
for proofs, I could not give them. In telling him all 
I suspect, I should only be getting myself into 
trouble that I couldn’t see my way out of. I’ve 
thought the matter over, lying awake all last night. 
I know very well that if I told a story against you 
that I couldn’t prove, I should be put in prison for 
libel, because suspicions go for nothing with the 
law. And so, madam, against my will I am forced 
to be silent.” 

You have wronged me by your vile suspicions, 
Mrs. Peters. My little step-sister, the Lady Alba 
Ravendale, died — ” 

In Paris ? At the same time with my Fanny ? 
The Lady Alba was in your charge. Did you have 
the two children together ?” 

Yes, they were together. Your little Fanny was 
procured as a playmate for the little Lady Alba — ” 

Who died of marasmus, like my Fanny. Where 
is my child buried ?” 

In Paris,” said Lady Trevor, desperately. At 
Montmartre.” 

I shall visit her grave. You may think because 


210 


Cecil Rosse. 


I gave her tip so readily to strangers that I did not 
love the child. I did love her. The mystery of her 
fate has always weighed upon me. I have looked 
for you for years, Lady Trevor, knowing that, if I 
could get at the truth, I should have you in my 
power. I am not very sharp-witted ; I cannot see 
through this mystery yet. It may all be as you 
say — 

‘‘You waste words. You came here for money. 
How much do you want to ensure your complete 
silence T* 

“ I am a widow and poor, with three sons to sup- 
port. I have done sewing for a living, but am not 
able to work longer. I want an annuity sufficient to 
keep me in comfort and to educate my boys.** 

“ Say a hundred pounds a year ?** 

The seamstress* eyes sparkled. The amount 
named appeared to her a fortune. 

“ Yes/* she declared, “ for that sum I will agree to 
keep silent.** 

“ You must not come to this house again for a 
year,** said Lady Trevor, drawing from her pocket 
her silver port-monnaie. “ Stay. You have three 
boys. Why don’t you emigrate to one of the 
colonies ?” 

“ I have wished to do so. I have a brother who is 
a farmer in Tasmania. With a hundred pounds a 
year, I could buy me a farm, and bring up my sons 
to work on it. But I should have to have my pass- 
age-money extra — ’* 

“ Come and see me one week from to-night, and I 
will place the tickets for a cabin passage to Tasmania 


Mrs, Peters Visit. 


211 


in your hands,” said her ladyship. ‘‘ Here is the 
hundred pounds for your first year. You can buy 
your outfit before you come to me again. When 
you arrive in Tasmania, I will arrange that you shall 
find there an extra sum of one hundred pounds, so 
that you can make a good payment on your farm.” 

She extracted several bank-notes from her purse, 
and placed them in Mrs. Peters' hand. The seam- 
stress counted them, stuffed them in her bosom, and 
arose with a flush of exultation on her sickly face. 

I’ll be here a week from to-night, madam,” she 
declared, “ and all ready for the voyage.” 

She retreated to the door, with a last glance of 
triumph at the baronet's widow, and then made her 
way into the hall. 

As the house door closed behind her. Lady Tre- 
vor muttered : 

“ That difficulty, which threatened to destroy me, 
is met and conquered. Pulford shall get her tickets 
and see her off.’' 

Mrs. Peters cautiously descended the slippery 
steps and paused a moment on the pavement, saying 
to herself : 

That money came easy. I might have got more. 
I'd like to emigrate well enough, but I’d like more 
money to go with. I’m not sure but the marquis 
would pay handsome for the information about 
Fanny, and not let me be prosecuted because I 
couldn’t prove it. There’s a risk, to be sure, in tell- 
ing him. I must think the matter over. Anyhow, 
the first thing to do with this here money will be to 
get a decent outfit of clothes. And, the second 


212 


Cecil Rosse, 


thing I’ll do will be to go to Paris, and find out if 
two children died there at the same time, of the 
same disease, in the same family. And then I’ll 
look for little Fanny’s grave. I may be sharp 
enough, knowing what I know to start on, to clear 
up this mystery to my satisfaction and to prove my 
suspicions ! And if I prove Lady Trevor guilty of 
the fraud and wickedness I suspect her of, the 
knowledge will make my fortune !’' 



CHAPTER XIX. 

DEVASTATION. 

Gretchen’s fiery denunciation of Mr. Pulford 
fairly appalled the listeners. A silence followed, as 
profound as terrible. The MacDougals, quiet, stolid 
people, unused to such display of passion, stared at 
the old woman in alarm. Jarvis retreated a step 
before the hashing eyes and stern accusing finger. 
But Pulford stood his ground, apparently unmoved 
by her recognition of his villainly and his enmity to 
Cecil. Yet the flush that burned redly on his florid 
cheeks, the fierce light that leaped to his eyes, the 
quick compression of his lips, might have assured 
his companions, had they noted these indications, 
that his wrath, still though it was, burned at a white 
heat. 

He held in his anger with stern and powerful con- 
trol. He was so much master of himself that he 
even assumed a pitying expression, regarding 
Gretchen with apparent compassion. 

‘‘ Poor creature !” he said calmly. ‘‘ This is terri- 
ble, Doctor. What do you do for her when she is 
violent like this ?” 


[213] 


214 


Cecil Rosse, 


His employer’s coolness restored Jarvis’ self-pos- 
session. 

“We gen’ally lock her up in a padded room in 
these here moods !” he muttered. “ She’s uncom- 
mon dangerous !” 

Pulford turned to his hostess. 

“ Mrs. MacDougal,” he exclaimed, “ I thought you 
deemed the woman sane ?” 

Mr. MacDougal regarded Gretchen doubtfully. 
Even Mrs. MacDougal drew away from the old 
woman who seemed so suddenly to have become an 
incarnate fury, and had not a word to say in her 
defence. 

“My good woman,” said Jarvis, in a soothing 
voice, addressing Gretchen, who still stood in war- 
like attitude, struggling with her emotions, “ this 
violence frightens these here good people. Go up 
stairs—” 

“And leave you and this enemy of poor Miss Cecil 
to plot against her ?” exclaimed Gretchen. “ Mr. 
MacDougal — madam — you will not give us up to these 
wretches?” she pleaded wildly. “I tell you they 
mean to kill Miss Cecil, my poor young mistress, 
who never harmed a worm. For God’s sake, save 
her ! Turn these men out of your house. In 
heaven’s name — ” 

“ Hoot! woman,” interrupted MacDougal, sternly 
and rebukingly, with the air of one deeply scandal- 
ized. “ It becomes not sic frail creatures as we to 
be sae familiar wi’ the names o’ holy things. It is 
blasphemy to speak sic wards as yours. Calm your 


Devastation, 


215 


passions, woman, an’ speak the wards o’ truth and 
soberness, an’ ye ken them.” 

Gretchen tried to calm herself, but her terrors 
held full possession of her, and would not be 
restrained. 

“ I do not care for myself,” she cried, despairingly, 
^^but for my young mistress. This man is her 
enemy. He sent us to Black Rock by an act of 
treachery, pretending that the yacht would take us 
to Yorkshire. He hired this man Jarvis to kill us. 
He is not Mr. Grafton — he is not the gentleman I 
wrote to — ” 

The farmer’s patience gave way. 

“ Hoot ! woman,” he said again. “ Do ye deny this 
mon to be your friend, when he cam’ frae Lunnon 
at your bidding ? There is nae post ony ance a 
week ; the dochther couldna sent for him, as the 
post left before the dochther cam’. What brought 
him here but your summons ? How cam’ he to ken 
your presence here but for your letter ? I begin to 
think mysel’ your brain is crackit. Ye dinna speak 
the wards o’ sense or wisdom.” 

Gretchen scanned the faces around her with a 
last vain appeal. They all looked coldly upon her, 
even Mrs. MacDougal. These Highland people 
lived such quiet lives, free from warring passions, 
remote from knowledge of darker crimes, that Gret- 
chen’s wild words seemed to them the ravings of 
lunacy. 

“ She seemed quiet enoo’ till the night,” muttered 
Mrs. MacDougal. “ I wadna hae believit she could 


2i6 


Cecil Rosse, 


liae gang on like this to a pleasant spoken gentle- 
man, that cam' fra Lnnnon at her ain bidding." 

Gretchen drew a long, hard breath. 

“ There is no use in my saying more," she said 
hopelessly. You will not believe me, any of you. 
But I warn you that Miss Cecil and I will not go 
with these men. Mr. Pulford, I will rouse the ham- 
let. I will scream for help. I will command you to 
prove the charge of lunacy against us. We will sell 
our lives dearly. You — " 

I do not think my niece is safe in the same room 
with this person," said Pulford, smoothly. She 
ought to be locked up in a room by herself." 

GretcJien beat a precipitate retreat to the door. 

“ You shall not separate me from my young mis- 
tress !" she flashed. “ You shall never take us from 
this house alive, Mr. Pulford — never ! Miss Cecil 
and I will die together, if need be, but not by your 
hand, you cowardly assassin !" 

Not trusting herself to speak another word, fear- 
ing lest her enemies should seize upon her and pre- 
vent her return to her mistress, old Gretchen fled 
up the stair to Cecil’s chamber, and the listeners 
heard her barricade the door. 

I think no harm will come to Miss Rosse through 
the old woman’s being with her," said J arvis. Miss 
Rosse always soothes and quiets the old creetur’, 
when these here streaks come on." 

^‘You have seen the condition of this poor 
demented person for yourself, Mr. MacDougal," said 
Pulford, quietly turning to his host. “ I do not know 
what effect her denunciations of me may have upon 


Devastatio7t, 


217 


your mind, but I trust myself without misgivings to 
your calm and unbiased judgment. As the post 
leaves here but once a week, and as it left bearing 
this old woman's letter, before the doctor’s arrival, 

I think it is clearly proven, as you say, that I came 
in response to that letter. How else, as you also 
say, could I have known that my niece is here ? Still, 
although it is clearly proven that I am Mr. Crafton, 
and the uncle of Miss Rosse, I desire to establish 
myself thoroughly in your confidence, and to refute 
the charges of this crazy old woman. Is there a phy- 
sician near here 

Nane nearer than thirty miles." 

“We will send for a physician to-morrow, never- ‘ 
theless,’* said Pulford, calmly. “ I will prove to you 
by a medical man that my poor niece is unmistak- 
ably insane. It is a wonder that she has not betrayed 
her mental condition by some act of violence as that 
poor old woman has done." 

“Wad ye wish to see the young lady to-night ?" 
asked Mrs. MacDougal. 

“ No, madam, I prefer to wait until morning. I 
am tired after my journey, and feel scarcely able to 
encounter another scene of violence," said Pulford, 

“ But, in the morning, I will visit the dear child. 
You will see then that she will recognize me gladly. 
Poor girl ! she used to be very fond of her uncle in 
the old days." 

He drew a long sigh and resumed his seat by the 
fire. The family were seated also, but their tasks 
were not again taken up. They were all anxious 


2i8 


Cecil Rosse. 


and excited, all seriously troubled and oppressed 
with vague forebodings. 

Pulford exerted himself to make ah agreeable 
impression upon them, and in this he succeeded. 
He told a very pathetic story of his “ niece's ’* dis- 
appointment in love and consequent insanity, draw- 
ing largely upon an imagination which was unusu- 
ally prolific and vivid upon this occasion. 

Mrs. MacDougal wiped her eyes frequently, and 
Elspeth more than once sobbed aloud. The pretty 
and sorrowful romance which Pulford wove about 
their young guest filled them with tender pity for 
her and sympathy for him. Before he had talked 
an hour, he had completely won their confidence. 

‘‘ I should like to retire early," he said, at last, 
desiring to leave them while their good impression 
was at its height, since you are so good as to keep 
me to-night." 

Elspeth and the maid had slipped out and pre- 
pared the joint room of the former and her sister 
for Pulford's occupancy. The chamber was now 
ready. Mrs. MacDougal lighted another tallow 
candle, and bade the new guest follow her. Pulford 
made his adieux for the night with pleasant grace, 
and followed his hostess’ guidance. 

He was shown to a room upstairs which was sep- 
arated only from that occupied by Cecil and her 
maid by a thin partition. It was a low, spacious 
apartment, with sloping roof, and dormer windows, 
with a bare floor spotlessly clean and dotted with 
sheepskin rugs, and with furniture of the simplest 
and cheapest description. Yet tv^’o gaudy-colored 


Devastation. 


219 


prints on the wall, curtains of white netted yarn at 
the windows, a netted coverlet on the high bed, and 
a crystalized bouquet on a wooden shelf, showed the 
same desire for beauty and ornament in that lonely 
Highland farmhouse, as is expressed in the more 
luxurious adornments of homes in the very centres 
of civilization. 

Your niece has the room next ye, sir, on this 
side,*’ said Mrs. MacDougal, setting down her 
light. “ There’s nae dure between, ye see. An’ on 
the ither side is the dochther’s room. Mak’ yersel 
comfortable, sir. Is there onything more ye wad 
hae 

Nothing, thank you,” replied Mr. Pulford. ‘‘You 
are very kind, madam. I can never sufficiently 
express my gratitude to you for your great kindness 
and hospitality, not only to me, but to my poor, 
afflicted niece. Good-night, madam !” 

He escorted her to the door politely, closing it 
gently after her. 

Then he sat down on a high-backed, rush-bot- 
tomed chair and took a leisurely survey of the 
room. He heard Jarvis ascend the stairs to his own 
chamber, and, a minute later, fling his boots noisily 
on the floor. He heard the sound of moving furni- 
ture below, but presently a silence succeeded. He 
removed his own boots, and crept across the floor, 
and placed his ear to the wall of Cecil’s room. A 
murmur of voices reached his ears, but he could not 
distinguish words. 

He listened thus a long time, but failing to mak^ 


220 


Cecil Rosse. 


out anything of the conversation going on so near 
him, he returned to his seat. 

The silence deepened throughout the house. The 
hour grew late. Pulford consulted his watch sev- 
eral times. The hands pointed to midnight when 
his door cautiously opened, and Jarvis crept noise- 
lessly in. 

He put up his hand warningly, enjoining the 
utmost guardedness. 

Jarvis did not speak until he had reached the 
side of his employer. 

“ Every one in the house is asleep except our- 
selves,’' he then said, in a whisper. “ At any 
rate, the family is snorin’ below beautiful. They 
are all packed away in the lower rooms like her- 
rin’s in a box. We’ve got the whole upper floor 
to ourselves.” 

Pulford pointed over his shoulder signiflcantly in 
the direction of the room occupied by Miss Rosse 
and her servant. 

I remember,” said Jarvis, nodding. ‘‘They 
may be awake, very likely, but I will be careful 
not to arouse ’em. You played it splendid to- 
night, Guv’nor, like a born actor. The way you 
told ’em that ’ere story about the gal being dis- 
ap’inted would a drawed tears from a stun. I 
could hear old MacDougal himself a-snuffling. 
They think you the most tender-hearted man 
alive.” 

“ But for all that,” whispered Pulford, “notwith- 
standing their faith in me, I should find it difficult 
to get away with the girl in the morning. In the 


Devastation, 


221 


first place, she is not insane ; and, if they are not 
fools, that fact must dawn upon the understanding 
of some member of the family. She will be too 
keen to go into a rage like Gretchen. She will 
demand an investigation, and their infernal Scotch 
caution will make them yield to her demand.'’ 

You read 'em like a book, sir." 

‘‘We have no time to wait, even if we dared risk 
the investigation. Grafton is likely to arrive in the 
morning. It’s a wonder to me that he didn’t arrive 
to-night. We must be out of the way before he 
comes. In short, Jarvis, to avoid all risks, the girl 
and her servant must be disposed of to-night.” 

“ According to the plan already made and devised, 
I suppose ?” 

“ Exactly. I can think of nothing better. Are 
you sure that these Scots are such sound sleepers 
that our proceedings will not be overheard or sus- 
pected ?” 

“ I am positive certain. They sleep like logs. 
They rise at daybreak and work hard all day, and at 
night they couldn't be wakened short of a thunder- 
clap, and p’raps not by that. I went down last 
night to the kitchen, about this time, for an extra 
pull at his jug of whiskey, and though I stumbled 
over a chair, no one heard me." 

“ Good. They must be in the midst of their first 
and soundest sleep now. This, then, is our time for 
work. You know where they are — go down for the 
combustibles." 

Jarvis assented, and noiselessly withdrew from the 
room. 


222 


Cecil Rosse. 


Pulford listened while he descended the stair, but 
no sound betrayed Jarvis’ movements. Pulford 
then listened anew at the partition dividing his own 
from Cecil’s room. No sound came from the girl’s 
apartment. 

They must be asleep,” he muttered. 

He resumed his seat. The minutes became half- 
an-hour. He was growing anxious, when his door 
again opened and his ally re-entered, bearing two 
immense baskets, well laden. 

It’s all right, Guv’nor,” said Jarvis, in a whisper. 
“ I’ve had splendid luck. See what I’ve got.” 

He displayed the contents of the baskets. In one 
were shavings, pine cones, and bits of dry wood. In 
the other were a box of home-made tallow candles, 
a jar of drippings ” — or kitchen fat — a bottle of 
spirits of camphor, a pan of lard, and a quantity of 
butter. 

Pulford examined these effects and expressed his 
satisfaction. 

“I rummaged their larder,” said Jarvis, “and 
took everything that seemed likely to serve our pur- 
pose. And not a soul of the family stirred. They’ll 
be lucky if they awake in time to save their lives.” 

“ There is a bed of loose straw under my feather 
bed,” said Pulford. “ I discovered it while you were 
gone. Get that out.” 

Jarvis obeyed. 

“ There’s a straw bed in my room,” he whispered, 
when he had deposited the huge sack of straw on 
the floor. “ I’ll get that too.” 

He went to his own room and procured the straw 


Devastation, 


^23 


bed and laid it down in the hall before the door of 
the room occupied by Miss Rosse and Gretchen. 
Pulford brought his own bed, heaping it upon the 
other. Then the two, working swiftly and silently, 
pausing frequently to listen, piled upon and inter- 
spersed between the sacks of straw the contents of 
the two huge baskets The lard and the butter 
were strewn about the mass, the spirits of camphor 
was poured upon it, and, finally, Jarvis brought 
chairs from his own and his master’s room and 
added them to the pile. 

The door was nearly hidden by the outer barri- 
cade they had thus raised. Jarvis brought a small 
table and some other articles, while Pulford listened 
with a wildly-beating heart. 

“ All is safe ! ’ he whispered at last. The girl is 
doomed. She has barricaded her door on the inside 
with light deal furniture, which will catch from the 
blaze' of this mass. Nothing can save her — ” 

“ She may escape from her windows •” 

‘‘I think she’ll suffocate. The house is dry as 
tinder. The thatch will catch and burn like tow. 
They don’t stand much chance of escape .by the 
windows ; but, to make all sure, do you go below 
and lie in wait for them under their windows. I stay 
here until the latest minute possible.'’ 

Jarvis assented. Pulford drew out his matchcase 
and deliberately lighted a match and dropped it 
into the lower strata of the inflammable pile. 

The drop of fire grew larger and brighter, seized 
upon the straw and grease and spirits, and leaped 
up upon the instant into a giant red blaze. 


224 


Cecil Rosse. 


Jarvis beat a swift and silent retreat down the 
stair and out of doors, stationing* himself under 
Cecihs windows. 

Pulford returned to his own room and put on his 
shoes. 

With his door slightly ajar, he watched the prog- 
ress of the fire he had created. 

The greedy flames licked up the grease and straw, 
seized upon the chairs and tables, caught at the 
framework of the door beside it, and sent long, red, 
exploring fingers through the crevices, catching at 
the woodwork on the other side, and mounted to 
the unplastered flooring above. 

Within five minutes the thatched roof was ablaze. 
Still, no sound came from Cecirs room. 

She’ll surely be suffocated !*' thought Pulford, 
exultantly. ‘‘ She’ll awaken from her sleep in an- 
other world than this i” 

The flames came creeping towards his own room 
and the staircase. Cecil's room was all on fire. The 
smoke and heat were terrible. Still, Pulford 
waited. 

It was not until the entire roof was a mass of 
flames, and the upper floor was in the grasp of the 
fiery monster, and a faint, far-off cry of ‘ fire !' came 
to his ears from the hamlet beyond, that he turned his 
thoughts from the destruction of Cecil and Gretchen 
to securing his own safety , 

He flung open the door and made a dash for the 
staircase. The fire had taken possession already of 
the deal wood- work and steps. Gathering a blanket 
over his head he rushed down the stair through 


Devastation. 


225 


smoke and flame and burst into the kitchen, the 
flames following him like ravening wolves through 
the open door. 

** Fire ! Fire he yelled. ‘‘Wake up ! You’ll be 
burned alive ! Fire!” 

He bounded to the outer door, undid the latch, 
and staggered into the yard repeating his cries. 

The family, aroused, sprang from their beds, and, 
grasping the nearest garments in their hands, fled 
out of the doors in the wildest terror and confusion, 
adding their shouts to his. 

Pulford hastened to his ally. 

The windows of Cecil’s room were closed. Jar- 
vis declared that no one had opened them, or 
escaped by them. 

“ It's too late for escape now,” said Pulford, 
grimly. “ They’ll never make us any more 
trouble.” 

The farmer, nearly beside himself, drew on his 
garments, and directed his sons and daughters to try 
to save their household effects. He made a move- 
ment to follow them into the house, bethought him- 
self of his guests, and came running toward the 
plotters. 

They pretended to be hastily completing their 
toilets. 

“Your niece, sir I” gasped MacDougal. “She 
and the old woman will be burned to death.” 

“ Is there no ladder near ?” cried Pulford, dis- 
tractedly. “ My poor girl ! It’s all the work of that 
old woman. Doctor, can't you scale the house-wall ? 


226 


Cecil RossCo 


To see her perish thus before my eyes ! Oh merci- 
ful heaven !" 

He made a gesture as if to throw himself into the 
flames. Jarvis seized him and held him back. The 
people of the hamlet came flocking up, articles of 
clothing and furniture were dragged from the 
kitchen at the peril of life, while several men 
brought a ladder with which they resolved to at- 
tempt the rescue of Miss Rosse and Gretchen. 

This ladder, too short for the purpose required, 
had been scarcely placed against the house-wall 
when the roof fell in. 

A cry of dismay went up from the little crowd. 

Too late !'* shouted a burly shepherd, who had 
been first to procure the ladder. “The vrall rocks ! 
There she goes !" 

The wall tottered and fell. The crowd retreated 
to a safe distance, breathless and terror-stricken. 
The flames seized upon the entire house, and 
wrapped it in one wild and lurid blaze. 

Mrs. MacDougal gave way to her grief in tears 
and lamentations, in which her daughters joined. 
The father and sons saw their home swept away 
before their eyes with no less grief, but with stern 
and tearless eyes. The neighbors were loud in their 
consoling, and in their proffers of shelter. Pulford 
looked upon the scene of devastation with gleaming 
eyes and soul filled with wicked exultation. 

‘‘ The girl is dead !** he said to himself. “ The 
thing has been well done. Lady Trevor's secret is 
now buried beyond all power or possibility of resur- 
rection !” 



CHAPTER XX. 
pulford’s triumph. 

The morning dawned upon a scene of desolation. 
Where the picturesque farmhouse of the MacDou- 
gals had stood, was now spread a gray level of dead 
ashes. One solitary chimney, massive and black- 
ened, was still standing, like a funeral monument, 
making the desolation appear yet more desolate. 

The MacDougal women had been taken to the 
house of a neighbor after the fire had burned itself 
out. The MacDougal men had lingered late about 
the scene and had then retreated to their great barn, 
which had fortunately escaped the devastating 
element. Pulford and Jarvis had also taken to this 
retreat and had thrown themselves upon the fra- 
grant hay, but not to sleep. Not one of the men in 
the barn slept again that night. The MacDougals 
discussed their loss, and the possible origin of the 
fire, and the fate of Miss Rosse and her servant, in 
low, hushed tones, but Pulford and his ally listened 
and were silent. 

With the first faint gleam of dawn, Pulford crept 
noiselessly out into the fresh air. Jarvis followed 
him. 


[227] 


228 


Cecil Rosse. 


Shall we settle now, Guv’nor?’' said the ruffian 
as they moved slowly across the yard. 

“ I want to rake over those ashes first,*' said Pul- 
ford. You may help me.” 

The light was increasing with every moment. 
The great hills that enclosed this remote valley 
were becoming outlined against the brightening 
horizon. The household goods scattered about the 
garden were distinctly visible. Pulford took up a 
kitchen poker that lay upon the best mirror the 
farmhouse had contained, and groped among the 
ashes. 

‘‘ Her room was above this spot,” he said. We 
must surely find some fragment of bone to show her 
fate.” 

The fire was frightful hot !” muttered Jarvis. 
“ It may have burned up bones and all. But we 
can make a thorough search.” 

They did so, and discovered one or two fragments 
which they believed to be bone. 

We did not need these to prove that they were 
dead,” said Jarvis. Their windows were closed, 
showing that they could not have got out that way, 
even if I hadn't known it by watching. And we 
know that they could not have escaped by the door.” 

‘‘And besides,” said Pulford, “I never heard a 
sound in their rooms after the fire began. They 
talked in the earlier part of the evening, but dropped 
asleep at last, and I never heard so much as a mur- 
mur afterwards. They were suffocated in their 
sleep. 

“ An easy ending,” observed Jarvis, coolly. Well, 


Pulfo7^d's Triumph. 


229 


Guv’nor, I*m glad the thing is finished up so easy at 
the last. I’ve had no end of trouble. I’ve rode 
hard and fast, by night and by day, and deserve 
even a larger reward than you promised me. I 
suppose my wife and Mariar, who haven’t seen me 
in nigh two weeks, are about frightened to death 
about me. They may think as the gal and Gretchen 
got clear away, and as I’m took by the cops. I shall 
start for Black Rock at once !” 

And I shall start for London. Come this way, 
Jarvis. I’ll pay you the sum I promised, and give 
you the money for Maria, which I agreed to pay her. 
I came provided with monCy to settle these debts.” 

They walked aside to a little distance, and halted 
under a pine tree. Pulford drew out his pocket- 
book and paid the sums agreed upon, and, in his 
good nature and delight, added an extra sum. 

See that Maria does not trouble me by a visit,” 
enjoined Pulford. “And, as for you, Jarvis, keep 
you distance. If I want your services again. I’ll 
come to you. But you must never come near me, 
remember 1” 

Jarvis promised compliance, counted his money 
and put it in his pocket. 

“ So ends this adventure !” said Pulford. “ The 
job is done — you are paid — the girl is dead, leaving 
no trace of her late existence. Let what will happen 
now. I am content.” 

They slowly retraced their steps, as Mr. Mac- 
Dougal, haggard and anxious, came out of the barn 
and approached them. 

“ A sorra sight for a puir man, Mr. Crafton,” said 


230 


Cecil Rosse. 


the farmer, bitterly, pointing to the ashes. Last 
night, when I lay doon to sleep, I had a tidy roof 
aboove me and a warm fireside. This was the hoose 
where I was born, the hoose where a' my children 
were bom, the hoose in which I hoped to die. An* 
now it’s gane. I’m that puir, sir, that I canna offer 
ye’ a breakfas’, not even a sup o’ parritch.” 

** I sympathize with you, Mr. MacDougal,” said 
Pul ford, with all my heart. Yours is a terrible 
loss.” 

“ But naething like yours, sir,” said MacDougal, 
bravely. “ The wurrest of a’ was that the bonnie 
lassie an’ the auld wT^man were burnt to death. 
Puir creeturs ! I canna speak my sorrow for your 
loss, sir.” 

‘‘ My poor niece !” sighed Pulford. Her weary 
wandering brain has found rest at last ! I fear, Mr. 
MacDougal, that your kindness to those poor women 
has brought this catastrophe upon you. The fire 
originated in their room. I am persuaded that the 
old woman, in a frenzy of lunacy, set fire to the 
house and perished with her friend and companion, 
my niece, in the flames.” 

I hae nae doot that ye are right, sir,” groaned 
MacDougal. 

I have searched the ashes for some vestige of 
the poor creatures, and have found remnants of bone, 
I think,” continued Pulford, affecting a deep grief. 

I cannot speak further on this subject. It har- 
rows up my soul nearly to madness. Let us speak 
of yourself. Was your house insured V* 

‘‘Insured?” repeated the farmer blankly. “I 


Pulford's Triumph, 


231 


dinna understand ! It is a dead loss, sir. There’ll 
be nae a penny cooming back to me frae the 
ashes V* 

I am sorry to hear it. But I cannot permit you 
to lose so heavily by an act of kindness, sir. Al- 
though I knew nothing of the old woman, and of 
course have no responsibility in regard to her, yet I 
desire to lighten your sense of loss as much as I can. 
Here is a Bank of England note for a hundred 
pounds. Accept this from me, Mr. ‘MacDougal, in 
the name of my dead niece. 

The farmer protested, but Pulford urged the sum 
upon him. He ended by accepting it with a burst 
of thanks and with joyful tears, which he turned 
aside to hide. 

“May God bless ye accordind to your deserts, sir,d’ 
he exclaimed. 

Pulford winced. 

“ I think, dd said the villain, “ that my friend, the 
doctor, will have to hasten his return to Incledon. 
His patients will miss him sadly. And as for me, I 
must hurry back to town with the tidings of my poor 
nieceds fate. We will not intrude upon you longer 
in 5^our hour of darkness and grief. If one of your 
neighbors will give us a breakfast we will set out 
upon our respective journeys.’d 

“They are up over at McKayds,dd said the farmer, 
looking toward the nearest farmhouse. “ 111 tak' 
ye there. Hell gie ye a good breakfast and ^ 
thoosan' welcomes.d’ 

MacDougal guided his guests to the farmhouse in 
question. The family was up and dressed ; a smok- 


232 


Cecil Rosse. 


ing breakfast was being put upon the table at the mo- 
ment of the visitors’ entrance. The new comers were 
made welcome. When MacDougal had told of Pul- 
ford’s gift, the latter found himself regarded as a 
princely benefactor. Mrs. MacDougal and her 
daughters overwhelmed him with tears and blessings. 
A breakfast of bacon and eggs, broiled birds and 
bannocks, porridge and cakes, was placed before the 
guests. When they had finished their repast, and 
had risen from the table, the housewife packed a 
hamper for the doctor ” to carry before him on his 
horse — Pulford buying a stout animal of MacDougal 
and presenting it to Jarvis, the ponies being quite 
useless. 

Pulford and Jarvis then made their adieux, 
mounted, and rode out of the farmyard together. 

They paused in the highway for a few last words, 
and then separated, proceeding in different direc- 
tions. Jarvis headed for Black Rock in excellent 
spirits, and Pulford proceeded in the opposite 
direction, hoping to reach Inverness that night. 

He had proceeded but a few miles along the 
pleasant country road which ran through a wild and 
picturesque region, when he beheld approaching 
him, at a brisk pace, a carriage drawn by two stout 
horses. 

“ I believe it's Grafton,” he muttered. I’ve got 
away from the MacDougals just in time.” 

He hastily dismounted and led his horse aside 
into the shelter of the wayside bushes. Then he 
crouched low in the shadow, watching and waiting. 

The carriage advanced and was soon abieast of 


Pulfo7'd 's T^dumph. 


233 


him. It was a stout vehicle, evidently belonging to 
Inverness. The driver on the box was a Scot. Pul- 
ford saw the occupant of the carriage, who was 
leaning forward and looking out of the window with 
an impatient expression on his countenance, and 
recognized him at the first glance. 

He was Maldred Crafton. 

Pulford waited until the carriage had gone by, 
rejoicing in having escaped Grafton’s observation, 
and then emerged from his concealment, remounted, 
and resumed his journey, exclaiming gleefully : 

“ Too late ! You can go on to MacDougal’s farm- 
house, Maldred Crafton, and welcome ! The jewel 
you are seeking is no longer there. Cecil Rosse is 
dead !” 



CHAPTER XXI. 

ON THE TRACK. 

The hour was late in the afternoon. Crafton was 
alone in his chambers, indulging in a gloomy 
reverie. He was thinking of Cecil Rosse. He 
loved her with all his soul, with all the fervor of his 
hard and powerful nature. His faith in the ultim- 
ate success of his search for her had never 
wavered until now, but he was in a depressed and 
dejected mood, and was considering at last seriously 
the possibility that she and her old servant might be 
dead. He pictured her in her bright young beauty, 
with her dark brown eyes, with the golden glint in 
them, illuminating her lovely face ; and with her 
red-brown hair, with its golden shimmer rippling 
away from her pure, pale brow, as radiant and 
glorious as she had been in her home in the Black 
Forest. Could that radiance and beauty have died 
out upon this earth forever ? Had the young life, 
with its spirit and intelligence, its grand possibilities, 
faded away like a dream ? And if she were dead, 
how had she died? And where had she been 
buried ? 


[234] 



On the Track, 


235 


There’s been foul play somewhere,” he said to 
himself, savagely. She has some enemy, else she 
and Gretchen would never have disappeared so 
utterly, leaving no trace behind them. But who is 
that enemy ? By heaven ! I’d give ten years of 
my life to know !” 

He was thinking thus when a knock sounded on 
his door, and Lord Glenham entered. 

The blonde earl looked worn and haggard. The 
bitter experiences of the past few months had left 
their traces on every feature of that noble face. 
The proud, firm mouth was set in a strangely stern 
expression ; the broad forehead wore a troubled look ; 
the gray eyes were graver than of yore, and full of 
intense and passionate gloom. His movements 
showed weariness. The entire purpose of his life 
had been changed ; his dearest hopes thwarted ; 
but his brave and resolute expression showed that, 
in spite of long defeat, he had by no means given up 
all expectation of finding the missing girl he loved. 

‘‘Come in, old fellow,” said Grafton, rising, his 
dark face brightening. “ Glad to see you. Any 
news ?” 

“ None whatever,” replied the young earl, accept- 
ing the proffered chair. “ I knew that you had 
been following up some new clew, and I dropped in 
to inquire into your success.” 

“ I have had no success,” responded Crafton, 
gloomily. “There is nothing more to be done, 
Glenham. I have searched the hospitals even, but 
I have found no trace of the lost ones. I give over 
the search. Miss Rosse and her servant were the 


236 


Cecil Rosse. 


victims of some terrible fatality, or of some secret 
enemy of the young lady. I was thinking, when 
you came in, that she must have had some enemy 
who may have murdered her !” 

The earl started. 

What enemy could she have T he questioned. 
“ She — so innocent, so young, so good ! — It is 
impossible !’' 

“ Not so. A jealous woman like Lady Trevor 
might have caused her to be smuggled out of the 
country, or might even have destroyed her. I 
fancied that the handsome widow loved you. Glen- 
ham, until these reports of her engagement to that 
Pulford came out. No one could compel her to 
marry him, so she must marry him from inclination. 
And if that is true, she couldn't have loved you, you 
know." 

The earl's face flushed hotly. 

“We will not speak of Lady Trevor, Grafton," he 
said, gravely. “ I believe her to be incapable of 
crime ; and, if it were true that she had sent Miss 
Rosse to the Antipodes against her will, she would 
have been guilty of a very serious crime." 

“ As you say, we will not speak of Lady Trevor. 
I do not share your high opinion of her, Glenham ; 
but, since she is engaged to marry Pulford, I cannot 
see that she would have had sufficient motive to rid 
herself of Miss Rosse. But I am none the less sure 
that Miss Rosse had a terrible and deadly enemy." 

“ Who could that enemy have been ? Who can it 
be ?" 

“ Therein, possibly, lies the clew to the entire 


071 the Track, 


237 


mystery. I know the history of Miss Rosse. What 
was her origin ? Who was the man who brought 
her to the pastor's house in the depths of the Black 
Forest ? The pastor received a letter from that 
unknown just before his death, which betrayed a 
positive enmity for Miss Rosse. That unknown 
expressed his desire that the young lady should 
marry a German peasant, and alluded to his stipula- 
tion that she was to have been brought up as a 
servant. Certainly that man, who never betrayed 
the nature of his relationship to Miss Rosse, and 
who certainly hated her, and who desired her to be 
brought up in ignorance and as a peasant, is likely 
to have discovered her departure from Zorlitz, her 
presence in London, and to have formed some 
design against her liberty and life. I think. Glen- 
ham, that the man who took her to Zorlitz, who 
knows the real story of her birth and parentage, is 
the author of her mysterious disappearance.” 

‘‘ And I believe it too,” cried the earl, convinced 
as much by Grafton’s earnestness and positive 
assurance as by his own reason. We have 
stumbled upon a theory which must be worked up. 
We will consult detectives anew — ” 

‘‘And fail as before. The man who hated or 
feared Miss Rosse has done his work well. She 
has been eight months missing. We have searched 
Great Britain and the continent of Europe. We 
have found no clue to her. She is dead — they must 
both be dead.” 

“ I will not believe it !” cried the earl, with pas- 
sionate emphasis. “ Miss Rosse is not dead. I feel 


238 


Cecil Rosse. 


that she is living. I know that, were she dead, 
some instinct would tell me the awful truth. I 
believe that she is in trouble, in sore and terrible 
distress, that she may be a prisoner somewhere — 
but I cannot, will not, believe that she is dead !” 

“ How or where she died, or who buried her,'’ 
said Crafton, dejectedly, we shall never know, but 
one thing is sure — if she were living we should 
have found her.” 

‘‘ I shall not cease to hope,” declared the earl, 
resolutely, although his face was pale and deeply 
anxious. ‘‘ As I shall not cease to search for her, I 
know that I shall find her some day, Crafton, sooner 
or later. I shall devote my life to the task of finding 
her.” 

Then you will waste a life that might have been 
blessed to yourself and others, and will make your 
mother miserable,” said Crafton, sighing. Poor 
Lady Glenham ! She idolizes you, my friend. I 
am sorry for her. I have a trick of bearing every 
one else’s burdens,” he added. I feel Miss Rosse’s 
loss as deeply as you do yourself, I think.” 

I have proved your friendship in my great 
trouble, Crafton,” declared the earl, warmly, stretch- 
ing out his hand to grasp that of the traitor. You 
have given all your time and strength to this seem- 
ingly hopeless search. I will never forget your 
goodness.” 

The loud rat-tat of the London postman upon the 
door below rang through the building and inter- 
rupted Craf ton’s reply. A minute later, the janitor 
of the house appeared, bringing a letter to Crafton. 


On the Track. 


239 


The latter took it carelessly and laid it upon the 
table : 

‘‘ As I was about to say/' he remarked, I have 
been a true friend to you, Glenham. If I could find 
Miss Rosse and restore her to you, I would give 
half the remaining years of my life — ” 

He turned the letter up, so that his gaze rested 
upon the address. The quaint German-looking 
characters arrested his attention. He stared at the 
post-mark. 

A begging letter, I suppose," he said, interrupt- 
ing himself. From Scotland, too ! I can't quite 
make out the exact address. I have no corres- 
pondents there — it must be a begging letter. Per- 
haps it contains a reminder from our deer-stalker, 
that I left in such haste as to forget his douceur. If 
you’ll excuse me I’ll just glance at it." 

He tore open the envelope. A long sheet of 
coarse blue paper fell into his hands. He opened 
it, and the incoherent letter of poor old Gretchen 
was spread before his eyes. 

As he saw the signature, at which he glanced first 
of all instinctively, he started, his face growing 
pale as death. His eyes lighted up with a burning 
glow, and a mighty agitation seized upon him. The 
letters danced before him on the page, fading or 
melting into a great blur, and the paper rattled in 
his shaking hands. 

The earl regarded him in wondering surprise. 

Are you ill, Grafton ?" he asked, anxiously. 

Grafton muttered an unintelligible response, 
shaking his head. He felt the necessity of hiding 


240 


Cecil RossCs 


his wild and sinister joy, and summoned to his aid 
all his powers of self-control. As a miser hides his 
treasure, so would he have hidden his letter at that 
moment but for fear of exciting the suspicion of the 
earl. He could not lay the letter aside unread, and, 
as soon as his vision cleared sufficiently, he glanced 
it over with devouring eyes. 

As he took in all its meaning, as he comprehended 
that the letter was from Gretchen, that Cecil Rosse 
was alive, and that he of all men, he and not the 
earl, had been summoned to rescue her from a 
deadly peril, his heart swelled with a jubilance he 
could not conceal. He turned his face from the 
view of his companion, his eyes gleaming, his lips 
parted wolfishly above his white teeth, his breath 
coming hard. He crushed the letter in his hands 
and thrust it into his pockets. 

A decanter stood on the table near. He poured 
a half-glass of brandy and drank it at a draught. 

It's bad news !" he said, his voice tremulous and 
husky. ‘‘ A friend is in great trouble, and begs me 
to come to him by the first train. He meditates 
suicide. I must go to-night. Where is my latest 
Bradshaw ? I bought one last week." 

He made a search for it and found it. 

“ I’ve an hour in which to catch the train," he 
presently announced, his voice still quivering with 
his suppressed excitement. ‘‘ I shall have to be 
expeditious. I am sorry to cut your ^isit short, old 
fellow, but I’ll see you again upon my return to 
town, in two or three days." 

He hastened to pack his portrnanteau with changes 


On the Track. 


241 


of linen, and to get out his heavy overcoat for night 
travel. 

No suspicion entered the mind of the young earl 
that the friend he trusted was playing him false. 
He did not dream that the letter which had caused 
Crafton so much agitation was from Cecil’s servant, 
and that it contained the address of the missing 
girl. Too noble to suspect treachery in his kins- 
man, he accepted Grafton’s confused explanation as 
truth, and forebore to question him upon what he 
deemed the private affairs of one of the traitor’s 
friends. He regarded Crafton in a leisurely 
manner while the latter hastened his preparations 
for departure. 

“I think I’ll go to the station with you,” he 
remarked, consulting his watch. You’ve no time 
to lose, if 5^ou expect to catch the nightmail.” 

Crafton rang and ordered a servant to fetch a 
cab directly.” 

Then he hurriedly threw off his morning-coat, 
tossed it upon a chair, and sought in his wardrobe a 
garment more suited to the journey he contem- 
plated. 

As the discarded coat fell upon the chair the 
crumpled letter and envelope dropped out upon the 
floor. 

Crafton put on a fresh garment, his pulses throb- 
bing fiercely, his soul in a tumult. He repeated in 
his own mind over and over again like the refrain 
of a song : Cecil is alive ! Cecil’s alive !” And 

once or twice he started, fancying that he had 


242 


Cecil Rosse. 


spoken the words aloud, and that Glenham had 
heard him. 

The search of months had drawn at last to an end. 
The girl was alive ; he knew her address ; he was 
going to her ! No thought of imparting the glad 
news to the earl entered his mind. He meant to 
find Cecil, to rescue her, to make her his wife, leav- 
ing Lord Glenham still in despairing ignorance of 
her fate. He was tempted to make an effort to 
uproot that hope which Lord Glenhem still cher- 
ished in spite of long defeat. 

“ Take the advice of a friend, Glenham,” he said, 
as he continued his preparations, and give over 
searching for Miss Rosse. Reconcile yourself to 
the inevitable. Do not mourn longer for a girl who 
is certainly dead, when you can marry a beauty and 
heiress any day, worthy to share your name and 
rank. Think of your mother, my boy. Forgive me 
if my words seem harsh and unsympathetic, but I 
cannot bear to see you wasting your life, and killing 
your poor mother, who idolizes you, for the sake of 
a vain dream.” 

He caught up his discarded coat and began to 
rifle the pockets. 

Where the deuce is that letter ?” he demanded 
in alarm. 

The earl’s quick glance discovered it. He bent 
forward and picked it up, restoring it to Grafton, 
and as he did so he noticed the quaint. German- 
looking illiterate style of hand-writing. His gaze 
rested directly upon the latter portion of the signa- 


On the Track. 


243 


tnre, and he made out distinctly the name, 
Heinrich. 

Crafton seized upon the letter with a pouncing 
movement, and with a flushed face, and eyes gleam- 
ing with suspicion, put it securely in his bosom. 

At the same moment the servant appeared and 
announced that the cab waited. 

‘‘ Take down my portmanteau and top-coat, 
Simpkins,'" commanded Crafton. 

The servant obeyed, disappearing down the stair. 
Lord Glenham passed out into the hall, and Crafton 
locked the door of the apartment, putting the key 
in his pocket. 

They descended to the cab and were transported 
to the railway-station. The earl was very quiet 
and thoughtful throughout the drive. That name, 
Heinrich, haunted him. Crafton bestowed an 
anxious and inquiring glance upon him now and 
then, as if seeking to probe his thoughts. He 
wondered within himself if the earl had seen 
Gretchen’s name, but became confident that he had 
not, because of his silence. There was no time for 
conversation after their arrival at the station, Craf- 
ton hastening to procure a first-class ticket to 
Edinburg, and to secure a compartment in a 
coach to himself, that he might sleep during the 
night undisturbed. 

The earl witnessed his departure, and when the 
train had steamed out of the station, he set out 
upon his return home. He was very grave and 
thoughtful throughout the drive, with a heavy and 
deepening shade of anxiety on his brow. 


244 


Cecil Rosse. 


In spite of liis efforts to turn them into a different 
channel, his thoughts dwelt persistently upon the 
letter Crafton had received, upon Grafton’s singular 
exultation and his inconsistent explanation, and 
most of all upon the partial signature he had 
observed. 

It was a woman’s handwriting,” he said to him- 
self. The writer is German, as indicated by pen- 
manship and signature. It is equally clear that she 
is ill-educated.” 

He looked with troubled gaze from the cab win- 
dows into the dusky streets, with their gleaming 
gas-lights, shining shop-windows, hurrying tide of 
pedestrians and moving vehicles, but saw neither 
lights nor people. His whole soul was absorbed in 
this strange, new problem. 

Heinrich !” he muttered. Where have I heard 
that name before ? Heinrich ! Is not that old 
Gretchen’s name? I have a letter from the new 
pastor of Zorlitz in which old Gretchen's name is 
mentioned, and I almost fancy her name is Hein- 
rich. Could Gretchen have written that letter ? 
Impossible ! To believe that would be to doubt 
my friend ! If the letter had been from her, he 
would have told me at once. It is impossible !” 

He set his lips together firmly, and, tortured by 
doubts, he waited in an agony of impatience until 
his drive was ended and the cab drew up before his 
stately, brilliantly-lighted mansion in Park Lane. 
He alighted hastily, flinging a half-sovereign to the 
cabman, sprang up the steps, and admitted himself 
into the house with his private latch-key. Then he 


On the Track. 


245 


passed swiftly up the broad stairs to his own 
apartments. 

It was near the dinner hour. His dressing-room 
was lighted ; his dinner dress was laid out ready for 
use, but his valet was temporarily absent. The 
earl locked his door, and opened his private desk, 
emptying out its contents. Looking over his papers, 
he selected three letters which he had received, in 
answer to his own inquiries, from the new pastor of 
Zorlitz. 

He unfolded and perused these missives. In one 
of these occurred this paragraph : 

“ The good people of Zorlitz mourn deeply over 
the mysterious fate of the poor young fraulein, the 
niece of the late Herr pastor, whose place 1 so 
unworthily occupy. Prayers go up for her morning 
and evening from the home-altars of Zorlitz, and 
neither is the most worthy and excellent Gretchen 
Heinrich, the fraulein's servant, forgotten, for she, 
too, has many friends here. God grant that this 
most terrible mystery may soon be cleared away, 
and these two highly-esteemed ones restored to 
those who love them !" 

The earl repeated Gretchen's name to himself. 

Her name is Gretchen Heinrich, as I thought,’' 
he said, aloud. That letter — could it have been 
from her ?” 

He arose and paced his floor with an impetu- 
ous tread. He reviewed, in his own mind, the 
words and manner of Grafton, and little by little 


246 


Cecil Rosse, 


dawned upon him the perfect conviction that 
Gretchen had been the author of that mysterious 
letter from Scotland, and that Grafton was now 
speeding his way to her and to Miss Rosse ! 

The conviction brought with it an infinite joy, an 
ineffable gladness ! 

Cecil was alive ! For some moments he had no 
thought but for this supreme idea — she was alive ! 

He sat down again, trembling, and pale with the 
pallor of the dead ; but his glad eyes, and quivering 
mouth, and working features told that his nature 
was moved to its deepest depths, and that his joy 
was overmastering in its intensity. 

As he grew calmer, his conviction, singularly 
enough, brought with it no suspicion of Grafton’s 
treachery to himself. 

‘‘The letter was from Gretchen I” he assured 
himself. “ Grafton would not tell me until Cecil’s 
safety should be assured beyond a doubt — until he 
could bring her to London. Perhaps he feared 
another disappointmen t for me. She is ill, perhaps, 
or in trouble. Gretchen may be separated from her 
young mistress. Grafton has gone to Edinburgh to 
look for them. I cannot remain here idle, a prey 
to doubts and fears. He should have told me, and 
permitted me to accompany him. As it is, I shall 
follow him in the morning.” 

He adhered to this resolution. When the Scotch 
mail quitted the London terminus the next morning, 
the young earl of Glenham took his place in a first- 
class coach as a passenger to Edinburgh. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

AN UNEXPECTED INTERRUPTION. 

Maldred Grafton pursued his journey to Edin- 
burgh, serenely unsuspicious of the Earl of Glen- 
ham’s close pursuit. He did not dream that his 
lordship had actually obtained a clew to the author- 
ship of the letter he had received from Scotland, 
and believed his own proceedings would remain 
secret and unsuspected. He slept little upon that 
first night after leaving London, his sinister exulta- 
tion filling his being and quickening all his 
senses to unusual activity. 

He expected to rescue Cecil from her enemies, to 
win her gratitude, and he determined to make her 
his wife before his return to town. He knew well 
that she did not love him, and that she did love 
Lord Glenham ; he knew well her spirit and resolute 
will, and that she was not likely, even in gratitude 
for his timely aid, to marry him. 

But, nevertheless,'’ he said to himself, setting 
his teeth together in a grim and hard expression, 
she shall marry me. I will not take her to Lon- 

[247] 


248 


Cecil Rosse, 


don, except as my wife. She shall be safely mine 
before I incur any risk of her meeting Glenham. 
The countess has offered to dower her handsomely 
in the event of my marrying her, and 1 will retire 
with my wife to my estate and devote myself to the 
task of winning her heart. If she refuse me at first, 
as I am sure that she will do, I shall be gentle and 
patient, but there will be a hand of iron within my 
glove of velvet. I must be prepared for all emer 
gencies. I must have matters so arranged that I 
shall not fear her refusal, and also so that she can- 
not escape. Now to prepare the net which shall so 
envelope her that all her struggles will but tighten 
her bonds !” 

He busied himself with schemes and plans, and 
from the chaos of many crude ideas he evolved at 
length one that suited him. 

“ I shall succeed,*' he muttered, jubilantly. I 
have only to be patient and strong. Might will win. 
Before Glenham ever even suspects that she is really 
living, she will be lost to him forever. A little mar- 
riage-ring will be a gulf between them deeper and 
crueller than death.’* 

He had purchased his ticket to Edinburgh only to 
blind the earl as to his actual destination. When he 
arrived at the Scottish Athens, he booked himself 
afresh to Iverness, and sped onwards to the north- 
ward without an hour’s delay. 

At Inverness he was obliged to remain over night. 
Soon after daybreak upon the following morning, 
he procured a strong saddle-horse, and minute 


An Unexpected Interruption, 249 


instructions as to his course, and set out upon the 
latter portion of his journey. 

In spite of all his caution, however, he lost his 
way, and wandered for hours upon a road that 
finally brought him back to Inverness in an angry 
mood. Determined to no longer trust to his own 
guidance, he procured a stout carriage adapted to 
Highland travel, and drawn by two stout Highland 
ponies* Into this vehicle he packed hampers of 
provisions, such as he deemed suitable to his own 
use or to the comfort of Miss Rosse. Finally, he 
secured as driver a Highlander who knew the coun- 
try well, and who undertook to convey him safely 
and speedily to the MacDougal homestead. 

He set out again at a late hour of that afternoon, 
journeyed until late in the evening, and halted for 
the night at a little Highland inn of the most prim- 
itive description. 

He was awake at dawn, breakfasted soon after, 
and then re-entered his vehicle, and resumed his 
journey. 

It was upon the morning of this day that Mr. 
Pulford quitted the ruined site of the MacDougal 
homestead, exulting in the supposed death of Miss 
Rosse and her servant. 

Although Pulford beheld the approach of Grafton 
in time to hide himself and his horse among the 
wayside bushes, where he lurked, watching with 
baleful eyes as Grafton passed, Grafton did not see 
or suspect the hostile presence. He looked from 
his carriage window, in a fever of impatience and 


250 


Cecil Rosse. 


anxiety, and hurried on in the direction of the ham- 
let which Pulford had so recently quitted. 

He had scarcely passed the spot where Cecil’s 
enemy lurked in sinister triumph, when he drew 
from his pocket Gretchen's letter and perused it 
anew with eagerness. 

“ I must be almost at my journey’s end,” he mut- 
tered. ‘‘ We must be in the neighborhood of the 
MacDougal place. I am doubtless upon the threshold 
of an adventure. This mysterious letter hints of a 
secret enemy who has held both mistress and serv- 
ant prisoners for months, of terrible and deadly foes 
who seek Miss Rosse's life, of pursuers on their 
track, and implores me to come to their rescue. The 
letter looks like the production of a mad woman, at 
first sight, but it confirms my theory of the mysteri- 
ous unknown. By Jove, I was right. ^The man who 
took the child Cecil to the pastor's house in the 
Black Forest is trying now to destroy her life ! 
What if he should have succeeded ? What if I 
should arrive too late 

He ordered the coachman to drive faster. 

Presently his thoughts took a new turn. 

I have gained the clew which we all have sought 
so long and vainly,” he said to himself. I am near 
Miss Rosse — the girl I worship. I — and I alone of 
all those so deeply interested in her — know her 
whereabouts. In an hour more I expect to stand 
face to face with her, if her scoundrel enemy has not 
succeeded in killing her !” 

The coachman pushed his horses to their best 
speed. 


An Unexpected Interruption. 251 


Half an hour later the little mountain hamlet was 
in full view. 

‘‘ The MacDougal place is just beyond the hamlet, 
sir,'* said the driver, leaning down from his box. I 
ken it week Nae use to stop for inquiries. I can 
tak* ye direct to the hoose/' 

They pressed onward, passing through the hamlet 
at a good rate of speed. The carriage proceeded 
more slowly as it neared the site of the MacDougal 
homestead, and it finally drew up before it 

Grafton, thrusting his head from the window, 
stared aghast at the scene of devastation that lay 
spread before his eyes. 

Where the old farmhouse had stood lay ashes and 
smouldering embers from which a faint smoke still 
rose. The solitary, massive chimney stood like a 
sentinel from the midst of the desolation, making it 
yet more desolate. A few pieces of furniture were 
still in the yard. A score of Highlanders, men and 
women, including the MacDougal family, were wan- 
dering about disconsolately, or raking among the 
ashes. 

This be the MacDougal place, sir,** said the driver, 
wonderingly, “but the hoose is nae here. There 
hae been a fire — ” 

Grafton opened the door of the vehicle and leaped 
to the ground. The Highlanders regarded him 
keenly as he approached them rapidly. 

“ Is this the MacDougal place ?” he demanded, 
looking from one to the other of the group. 

“ It is, sir,** was the response. 

“ Where is Mr, MacDougal ?’* 


252 


Cecil Rosse. 


The farmer came forward with a bow, his stolid 
visage indicating surprise. 

I see that your house is burned down,'" remarked 
Crafton, in a tone of sympathy. ‘‘ When did it hap- 
pen V 

“ Last night, sir,'" replied the farmer. As ye 
maun see, it is still smoking.’* 

I am very sorry,** said Crafton, politely. I 
came here, Mr. MacDougal, in answer to a letter 
which I received from a German serving-woman, 
Gretchen Heinrich. She informed me that I should 
find her and her young mistress. Miss Rosse, at your 
house. I am Mr. Crafton — Maldred Crafton !*’ 

The farmer retreated a step, regarding his visitor 
in amazement. 

‘‘You, Mr. Crafton !** he ejaculated, incredulously. 
“Yes, I. Did you not expect to see me here? 
What surprises you in my appearance ?’* 

“ Mr. Crafton was here last night ; he left us not 
o*er twa hours ago — ** 

“ Mr. Crafton ! What do you mean T 
“ I mean what I say, sir, that Mr. Crafton cam* 
here last night an* slept in this hoose, an* took his 
parritch wi* me this morning at a neebor’s.** 

“ There is some strange mistake here.’* exclaimed 
Crafton, after a brief, amazed silence. “ I am Mal- 
dred Crafton. And here is Gretchen’s letter to me 
in confirmation of my identity.** 

He displayed the letter and envelope. The farmer 
examined both, and gave particular attention to the 
post-mark. 

“ That is the letter, sure,** he said, scratching his 


An Unexpected Interruption, 253 


head in a manner indicative of perplexity. I rec- 
ognize the paper an' the envelope^ whilk I gave my- 
ser to the serving woman ye mention. An' there is 
the Loch Low post-mark. Yes, that is the letter. 
The ither mon had nae letter He gave nae proofs ; 
but then the dochther knew him, an' he knew the 
dochther. It's a poozzle." 

A man came here last night and personated me ?” 
exclaimed Crafton. This is singular. I left Lon- 
don immediately on receipt of this letter No one 
knew that I had received it — at least, no one dreamed 
of its contents. What did the man who claimed 
my name look like ?" 

He was a big mon, wi’ a florid face, an' sma’ 
gray eyes, an' a lang, sandy beard — a smooth sort o' 
man, wi* a plausible manner," said the farmer, 
reflectively. “We liket him vera weel, vera weel 
indeed." 

Crafton racked his brain in the endeavor to think 
of some person of his acquaintance answering this 
description. His mind reverted to his suspicions of 
Lady Trevor's connection with Miss Rosse's disap- 
pearance, and he thought of Pulford. 

“ I know of only one man answering your descrip- 
tion," he remarked, “ a gentleman named Pulford — ’’ 

“ That was the vera name the auld woman ca'ed 
him !" interrupted MacDougal. “ Pulford ! She 
wad hae that he was nae Mr. Crafton at a', but that 
he was Pulford !" 

“ Pulford ! It was he, then ? I was right in my 
suspicions of Lady Trevor !" ejaculated Crafton. 
“ The whole affair is, then, the result of a woman's 


254 


Cecil Rosse, 


jealousy ! Pulford was here — he left this morning ! 
Where is Miss Rosse ?’* 

MacDougal pointed sorrowfully to the smoulder- 
ing embers and ashes before them. 

Good heaven ! You don’t mean — ” 

*'The young lady an’ her servant were burned 
oop i’ the fire last night i” exclaimed the farmer, 
solemnly, 

Grafton recoiled, his face white as death, his eyes 
glittering like burning coals. 

Mrs. MacDougal and her daughters, who were 
close beside the farmer, broke forth into pitiful 
expressions of their grief. 

Grafton tried to speak, but only a husky murmur 
escaped his throat. He staggered back a step, sank 
down upon a rude chair that stood near, and leaning 
forward, covered his face with his hands. 

Gecil had been almost within his grasp — and now 
to lose her seemed more than he could bear! 
Dead ! Burned to ashes ! Destroyed almost in the 
hour of his coming ! An awful wave of bitterness 
and agony swept over his soul. A murderous pas- 
sion filled his being ! He would hasten after Pul- 
ford and kill him, for Pulford must have killed her. 

Then came a swift revulsion of feeling. She was 
not dead ! She could not have perished like a bird 
in its cage ! 

He sprang up, fiery and determined. 

Tell me all about Pulford’s appearance here,” he 
demanded. Tell me about Miss Rosse, and about 
the fire. How long was Miss Rosse in your house ?” 

Over a week, sir. She cam' the day the auld 


Art Unexpected Interruption. 255 


woman wrote to ye, sir. The twa rode up thegither 
on twa used-up ponies an’ askit shelter. The young 
lady dropped doon at the dure in a dead swoon, an* 
I carrit her into the hoose. She were ill i’ her bed 
for days. The auld woman were ill, too,, wi' the 
fatigue an’ the fear. We mad’ them welcoom to a' 
we had. If they were alive noo, they wad tell ye, 
sir, that the MacDougals treated them kindly.” 

Ay, that we did,” sobbed Mrs. MacDougal. 

An’ we never saw a prettier lassie, nor a bonnier, 
sweeter ane than Miss Rosse ! Puir, lost lamb !” 

“ The next day after Miss Rosse an’ her servant 
cam’,” continued the farmer, there apperit a person 
ca’ing himself Dochther Graham. He said he kep' 
a mad-hoose at Incledon, an’ that these twa were 
escaped lunatics, an’ previously unbeknown to each 
ither— ” 

“ He lied, then !” interrupted Grafton. 

“ I heered baith sides,” said MacDougal, an’ I 
tauld the young lady, if her story were true, that 
her frien’s wad coom for her an’ the dochther maun 
wait until we could hear frae Lunnon i’ answer to 
Gretchen’s letter. Yester e’en, the mon ca’ing him- 
self Grafton appearit, an’ confairmed the story o’ 
the dochther. It was settlet that Miss Rosse an’ the 
auld woman should gae wi’ the dochther this morn- 
ing. Gretchen saw the mon, but the young lady 
didna see him at a’. I’ the night — I canna tell how 
it a’ happened — but we were awakened by Mr. Pul- 
ford creeing ‘ Fire !’ We had barely time enoo to 
get oot o’ dures, wi’ the few puir sticks ye see here, 
when the roof fell in, an’ the wa’s followed, an’ the 


256 


Cecil Rosse. 


young lady an* her servant were buried i* the 
ruins.*' 

“ Pulford must have- set the house on fire to 
destroy her I** ejaculated Crafton. 

He gav* me a hoonder poonds as a free gift 
toward rebuildin* the boose.** 

That confirms my idea. He gave you that sum 
to recompense the loss he had caused you. He 
wished you no harm and he believed his purpose 
accomplished. Are you quite sure that the two 
women were burned ?” 

Quite sure, sir. We should hae been burned to 
ashes oursels but for Mr. Pulford. The women could 
na escapit.** 

“ Have you searched for bones among the ashes T 
Ay, an* found nane. The banes must a been 
burnt as weel.** 

Crafton looked unconvinced. 

“ I think some fragment of bone must have 
remained to show their fate,’* he declared. See, 
there are bits of burning beams smoking among the 
ashes. All trace of two human beings could not, I 
think, be so utterly lost. If it be indeed so, if these 
helpless women were burned alive by that man’s 
devilish malignity, he shall hang higher than Haman ! 
All Britain shall ring with his infamy and with that 
of the woman who has employed him to destroy her 
rival. They shall expiate their crimes with their 
lives !” 

He raised his arm in fierce denunciation, his 
swarthy face pale and set in a stony sort of despair, 
his eyes burning with a lurid flame. 



THKY BEHELD CECIL ROSSE AND OLD GRETCHEN .— Pttije 257 . 







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An Unexpected Interruption, 257 


The little group gathered nearer him, staring at 
ijim as if fascinated. 

I I will avenge her shouted Crafton, his voice 
Inging loud and clear, while he shook his clenched 
i t and his eyes flamed with a demoniac fury. I 
kll destroy them as — great heaven !*' 

His blazing eyes changed in their expression to a 
look of amazement, bewilderment and over-master- 
[ng joy. He staggered backward a pace, and his 
g forefinger extended itself from his fist and 
inted toward the stable yard. 

The gaze of the awe-struck bystanders followed 
the direction thus indicated. 

' And they beheld emerging from a small haybarn, 
ELtid approaching them, two figures — those of Cecil 
Rosse and old Gretchen. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 


EXPLANATIONS. j 

Yes, the two approaching figures were unmistak 
ably those of Cecil Rosse and old Gretchen ! | 

Both alive ! Both unharmed ! | 

The girl sped forward with swift steps, her young | 
face white as death, her great, red-brown eyes wild j 
and glowing. Her gaze was fixed upon Crafton.j 
The old woman hurried after her with uncertain j 
steps, disheveled hair and livid countenance, herj 
eyes also fixed in a wild gaze upon the new-comer. | 

Mrs. MacDougal uttered a cry of terror, and sat i 
down hastily. 

The simple Highland neighbors retreated a few 
steps, half in superstitious dismay, as if they feared^ 
they looked upon disembodied souls. 

Even MacDougal himself stood dumb and awe- 
stricken, unable to utter a word, his eyes staring 
incredulously. 

Crafton was, for one moment, as if turned to stone. 
Then his arm dropped to his side, and he bounded 
forward with an exulting joy stamped upon every 
quivering feature of his swarthy face. The girl had 
[258] 


Explanations, 


259 


reached the outer edge of the group. She paused 
here at his impetuous approach. He reached her 
side, and, in his joy, would have embraced her but 
that she recalled him to his senses by extending her 
hand with a sweet, girlish dignity tempering the 
warmth of her glad welcome. 

Miss Rosse !” he exclaimed, seizing her hand and 
carrying it to his lips. “ Thank God ! you are alive 
and well ? They told me you were dead V* 

It’s not the fault of our enemies that we are not 
dead cried old Gretchen, sobbing aloud in her 
delight. Oh, Mr. Grafton, I feared that you had 
not received that letter — that you were not coming 
to us !” 

Grafton wrung Gecil’s hand in his fervent pressure, 
and a tear dropped from his eye upon it. She leaned 
more heavily against him. He regarded her anx- 
iously. Her face was whiter than any snow-drift. 
Her joy and relief were too much for her, after hours 
of terror and anguish, and a deadly faintness had 
seized upon her. 

With the tenderness of a woman, Grafton lifted 
her in his arms and carried her to the huge, high- 
backed, wooden settle that had been rescued on the 
previous night from the burning house. He laid 
her upon it. The Highland women, recovered from 
their superstitious fears, brought their plaids to 
cover her. A man hurried to the nearest house for 
restoring drinks. Mrs. MacDougal and her daugh- 
ters gathered about the young girl, and chafed 
Iher hands, and ministered to her. 

Cecil presently revived and sat up, her face still 


26 o 


Cecil Rosse. 


white, her eyes supernaturally large, her counte 
nance radiant with her gladness. She held out he > 
hand anew to Crafton, to whom she had not ye | 
spoken. 

“Let me thank you,’' she said, brokenly. “ Yot 
have saved our lives. Our enemies — ” 

“Are gang!” interrupted Mrs. MacDougal. 

“ Gone !” 

“ Gang !” echoed Elspeth MacDougal. “ Gang 
their separate ways, ane of them to the east, an’ the 
ither to the west !” i 

“But if they were here they would not dare toj 
harm you. Miss Cecil, now that. I am here to defend! 
you,” said Crafton. “ You are no longer helpless 
and defenceless — ” ! 

“ Thanks be to heaven I” interrupted Gretchen. | 

“ We thocht ye were burnt alive i’ the hoose, | 
Miss,” said Mrs. MacDougal. | 

“ Did our enemies think so too asked Cecil, 
eagerly. 

“ They did. They hae gang awa’ to spread the 
ill news.” 

MacDougal came forward, his Scottish counte- 
nance set in an expression of severity and stern 
reproach. 

“ We hae a’ mourned ye as dead. Miss,” he 
exclaimed. “ We believed ye had perished i’ the 
fire. Your enemies were deceived, like ourselves. 
Whether ye were mad or nay, I wad ask ye, hae ye 
made a proper return for our kindness to ye baith 1 
Ye cam’ here ill an’ tired ; we took ye in, according 
to the wards of Holy Scriptures ; we mad’ ye wel- 


Explanations. 


261 


coom ; we gav' ye the best chamber i' the hoose, the 
best linen, the best food ; the gnid-wife ministered 
to ye ; ray dochthers tended ye lik' servants — an' this 
is our reward !" 

He pointed with an indescribable bitterness at the 
lonely chimney and the gray ashes that were all 
that remained of his once prosperous and hospitable 
home. 

I am very sorry," said Cecil, in a faltering voice. 

“ Ye should have been sorra beforehand," cried 
the farmer, with an outbreak of passion. “ Why 
should ye burn us oot o* hoose and hame ? It is a 
maircy we escapit wi’ our lives !" 

An' my beds, an' linen, an’ dishes, an' furniture 
all burned oop !" said Mrs. MacDougal, in a burst 
of housewifely grief. “ An’ a' the guid homespun, 
an' the best claithes — it is verahard. Ye were sore 
temptit, I doot na. Miss, but it were a hard thing 
to do." 

Cecil looked from one to the other of her 
accusers, with a dawning comprehension of their 
meaning. 

Do you mean to accuse me of setting fire to 
your house ?" she demanded, a red spot burning on 
either cheek, her manner showing haughty sur- 
prise. 

An' did ye nae ?" demanded Elspeth. 

I did not. How can you dream that I would do 
such a thing ?" 

It wad hae been the foreign woman, then ?" 

It was neither of us. We do not know how the 
fire originated." ^ 


262 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ The man Jarvis may have set the house on fire,’* 
said Gretchen. 

“ How did you escape, Miss Rosse ?” inquired 
Grafton. 

Gretchen came up to me last evening and told 
me that Mr. Pulford, Lady Trevor’s agent, was 
below in the farmhouse kitchen. She said that 
he called himself Mr. Grafton, and that the Mac- 
Dougal family believed his pretensions. She said 
that he had corroborated Jarvis’ story, declared him 
to be a doctor, and us two escaped madwomen. 
She said that the MacDougals had consented to our 
removal from the house this morning by these two 
men, and that there was no hope for us. She had 
discovered, too, that Mr. Pulford was the secret 
enemy to whom we owed our long imprisonment, and 
who had schemed against our lives. We dared not 
remain in the house over night. We determined to 
hurry away as soon as possible. We dressed our- 
selves in our warmest garments, and removed the 
barricades softly from the door, and listened and 
waited. We heard Mr. Pulford go up to his room ; 
we heard Jarvis ascend to his. And then we took 
off our shoes and left our chamber, and crept down 
the stairs to the kitchen. And there we waited and 
listened again, our hearts in our throats. The house- 
door, was open. The servants had retired. The 
family were in the adjoining rooms, talking among 
themselves, and procuring beds and blankets. We 
seized our opportunity, and slipped out of the house 
unheard and unseen, and ran to the stableyard. We 
waited there a few minutes, undecided what to do, 


Explanations. 


263 


Finally we decided that we must obtain our ponies. 
We should not be able to walk to Inverness, and if 
we attempted to do so, our enemies would surely 
overtake us. We dared not attempt to secure the 
ponies until the household should be asleep. We 
dared not go to any house in the hamlet. We could 
only rely upon ourselves.’' 

Mrs. MacDougal uttered a groan of sympathy. 

“ We were near the little hay -barn,” continued 
Cecil, ‘‘ and the door was open. We slipped in, 
climbed the ladder, and crept upon the top of the 
hay and hid ourselves. A crack between the boards 
commanded a view of the house. We waited there 
until the lights in the lower part of the house had 
been extinguished, but the lights upstairs still burned 
and we dared not stir. At last, those lights were 
put out, and then we began to think of flight. We 
talked in whispers together. We were about to 
climb down the ladder when some instinct compelled 
me to take a final look at the house to assure myself 
that all was safe. I peeped out. The house was all 
ablaze !” 

I kenned she never set fire to the hoose !” cried 
Mrs. MacDougal. 

We were frightened, and hid again in the hay,” 
said Cecil. ‘‘ And there we stayed throughout the 
long and terrible night. We dared not show our- 
selves, lest we should be discovered. Toward 
morning, being quite worn out, we dropped asleep. 
When we awakened it was broad day, and Mr. Pul- 
ford and Jarvis were raking among the ashes. We 
feared lest they should detect us at the crack 


264 


Cecil Rosse. 


between the board, and we dared not look out often. 
We resolved to lie hidden until to-night, and then to 
make an ejffort to escape. But we heard your voice 
Mr. Crafton, and we looked out and saw you, and in 
the joy of the moment we sprang up and hurried 
down the ladder, and ran towards you — ’’ 

“ You knew that I would protect you with my 
life cried Crafton. And you were right. Before 
harm shall come to you. Miss Rosse, it will have to 
cross my dead body 

It maun be that the fire was then an accident," 
said Mr. MacDougal. ‘^Or the wark of Mr. Pulford, 
or the mon J air vis." 

“ It was no accident !" declared Crafton. “ It was 
the result of a deep and hellish design to destroy two 
innocent lives." 

God be thanked that that design was nae suc- 
cessful !" said the farmer, devoutly. 

“An' noo," said the kindly neighbor who had 
given the MacDougal women lodgings during the 
past night, and had entertained the entire Mac- 
Dougal family, with Pulford and Jarvis, at break- 
fast, “ the young lady an' the auld woman are clean 
tired out an' ill wi' fasting. Bring them to my 
hoose. We hae enoo an' till spare. Coom, a’ o' ye’ 
an' hae a hot breakfast !" 

“ Take my arm. Miss Cecil," said Crafton, gently. 
“ Lean upon me. You cannot do better than to 
accept this kind invitation." 

Cecil rose up, trembling, but with a wan smile. 

“ First," said Mr. MacDougal, coming forward, 
“ let me ask the young lady’s pardon for dooting 


Explanations, 


265 


her ward an’ helping her enemies to oppress her. 
I see it a’ noo. An’ sin’ ye vouch for her reason, 
Mr. Crafton, I tak’ back a’ I hae said aboot her an* 
the auld woman, an’ a’ I hae I place at her sairvice. 
She can hae the harses — ” 

‘‘ Thank you,” interrupted Crafton, but she will 
not need them. I thank you, in her name, for your 
offers of service, and, in her name, pardon all that 
has passed. I know her too well to believe that she 
will bear a grudge for your unbelief, since you 
repent it. I shall take Miss Rosse away with me 
this morning !” 

He drew Cecil’s arm in his, ordered his driver to 
proceed to the next house, and followed the guid- 
ance of the hospitable neighbor. 

Gretchen and the MacDougals followed. 

A wide kitchen settle heaped with plaids was 
placed at Cecil’s disposal while the women of the 
family prepared oat- meal porridge and oat-meal 
cakes, with other Scottish dishes. Crafton went out 
to his carriage and returned with half the contents 
of his hamper of provisions, coffee, tea and sugar, a 
tin of biscuits, and various other delcacies. The 
neighbors brought the best from their larders, and 
steaming broiled birds, ham and venison presently 
filled the kitchen with their savory, commingling 
odors. Coffee was made, not only for the guests, 
but for the entire curious group of neighbors, to 
whom the beverage was a novelty. Cecil and Crafton 
sat down at the table and were served by a dozen 
willing hands. Gretchen insisted upon sitting apart 
at a side-table, where more freedom in satisfying 


266 


Cecil Rosse, 


the demands of her capacious appetite was allowed 
her. 

When the meal was concluded, and the strong 
coffee and well-cooked viands had imparted new 
strength to Cecil, they arose from the table. 

Crafton presented his entertainers with the 
remains of his stores and won their fervent grati- 
tude. He drew MacDougal aside, and, in the 
exuberance of his joy, presented him twenty pounds 
towards rebuilding his house. 

And then, the horses having been fed and 
watered and rubbed down, and put again to the 
carriage, Cecil made her adieux to the MacDougal 
family. Mrs. MacDougal and her daughters shed 
tears and entreated forgiveness for giving credence 
to Pulford’s assertions, and Cecil kissed all three of 
the women in token of her kindly feeling toward 
them. She shook hands with the farmer and his 
sons, and with the neighbors who betrayed their 
interest in her by crowding about her. And then 
Mr. Crafton helped .her into the vehicle, handed in 
Gretchen, and followed, taking his place beside the 
German woman, with his back to the horses. 

The driver cracked his whip, the horses started 
briskly, and the carriage rolled out of the yard into 
the highway. 

Cecil put out her head for a last look at the kindly 
faces of the simple Highland people and waved her 
hand in a final farewell. Then she sank back upon 
the cushions, and was borne past the little hamlet, 
and on the road to Inverness. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

AT THE MOUNTAIN INN. 

Crafton arranged a shawl as a pillow and placed it 
tinder Cecil's head. She closed her eyes wearily, 
faint and wan after her long fatigue and excitement, 
and he watched her with adoring eyes. 

He noticed, as the transitory flush left her cheeks, 
how pale and thin was the lovely young face. Her 
exquisite beauty was undimmed, the tender mouth 
had lost nothing of its sweetness, but the long, curl- 
ing eye-lashes lay upon her cheek like snow, and 
the red-brown hair, with its golden shimmer, 
rippled away from brows upon which the blue veins 
stood out with startling effect. The slender figure 
had grown strangely ethereal. A thrill of tender- 
ness went through Crafton's soul as he gazed upon 
her, and a sudden moisture dimmed his hard, black 
eyes. 

You are safe now. Miss Cecil," he said, softly. 

Those wretches cannot harm you now, even if we 
were to meet them face to face." 

The girl breathed with a long, deep sigh. 

“ Where are we going now ?" asked old Gretchen. 

[267] 


268 


Cecil Rosse. 


“ To Inverness, on our way to London. We shall 
arrive at Inverness to-night, and take the morning 
train for London.” 

We shall be glad to get back to London, shall 
we not. Miss Cecil V* cried Gretchen, joyously. 

We shall go back to our old rooms in Queen’s 
Crescent, and Mrs. Thomas will welcome ns, and we 
shall feel quite at home, shall we not ?” 

Cecil smiled faintly. 

‘‘ We owe our safety to you, Mr. Crafton,” declared 
Gretchen, warmly. But for you we should have 
been still hiding in that barn, hungry, cold and ter- 
rified. But for you we might have been discovered 
there before night and held as prisoners, while the 
MacDougals sent after Mr. Pulford or Jarvis to 
return for us. You are the only friend we have in 
all the wide world !” 

Crafton bent forward toward Cecil, his face 
flushing. 

‘‘ If Miss Cecil will but believe me her best friend, 
I shall be quite content,” he said, softly. 

Cecil opened her weary eyes and looked at him 
gratefully. 

Do not think me ungrateful because I have not 
expressed my gratitude in words, Mr. Crafton,” she 
said, gently. L thank you from my soul for your 
great kindness in hastening to us at Gretchen ’s 
appeal. If you could but know th® delicious sense 
of safety and restfulness I feel at this moment, 
you would feel repaid for your generous good- 
ness.” 

I am repaid — ^more than repaid !” declared Craf- 


At the Mount atn Inn, 


269 


^ton, fervently/ I would gladly die to serve you, 
Miss Cecil. Think no more of gratitude. Do not 
feel that I deserve your thanks. I wish that you 
would consider that you have a sacred claim upon 
my protection, and that in permitting me to serve 
you, you do me a great favor.** 

You are very kind — ** 

For months. Miss Cecil, I have mourned you as 
dead !** cried Crafton, in an impassioned voice. ‘‘ A 
day or two after you left London, I called at your 
lodgings in Bayswater, and were told that you had 
quitted town, that you were gone to Yorkshire, to 
Lady Trevor’s country-house. I went to Yorkshire ; 
you had not been there. I returned to London, 
half frantic. I employed detectives to search for 
you.. I went to Zorlitz, but no one there could 
throw any light upon your disappearance. I visited 
every station on the line to Grey court. I searched 
hospitals, asylums, every place in which I fancied 
you might have found refuge. I visited intelligence 
offices ; I went to all the great cities of the contin- 
ent ; I followed a strange woman over nearly all 
Europe, in the hope of finding you — ** 

‘‘ What devotion !** breathed Gretchen. 

And I had made up my mind that you were 
dead, Cecil, when Gretchen’s letter came, raising me 
from despair to the sublimest heights of joy! I 
have found you at last. You are safe and well ; 
and I am the happiest man in the kingdom !** 

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it pas- 
sionately. Cecil drew away hastily, her face red- 
dening. 


270 


Cecil Rosse. 


‘‘ And while I mourned you as dead, the victim j' 
of some awful fatality, you were a prisoner in a j 
lonely house on the Scottish coast,” pursued Craf- 1 
ton. “ I visited the railway stations and questioned i 
the guards. How could I have missed you ? Did 
you leave London on the night of the day on which 
you left Bayswater ?” 

“ Yes,” assented Cecil, “ but we did not leave by 
train. Lady Trevor kindly offered us free passage 
on her yacht, which, she said, was about to sail for 
Greycourt. We drove to Gravesend in the cab, and 
Mr. Pulford put us on board the yacht — ” 

“ The yacht ? We never thought of that 1” said 
Craf ton, excitedly; “ The yacht ? It was on the 
west coast at that time. They must have procured 
another vessel than the Undine^ 

“We suspected no evil,” said Cecil. “We were 
several days at sea, but we attributed the long pas- 
sage to the bad weather. We were landed at a 
place called Black Rock, on the extreme northwest 
coast of Scotland, as Mrs. MacDougal told me — a 
wild and desolate spot in a terrible, frozen region. 
And there we remained all the long winter, I sew- 
ing upon the moth-eaten tapestry, which I restored, 
and never suspecting that we were, in reality, pris- 
oners, and that Jarvis and his wife, and the Portu- 
guese woman, Maria, were really our jailers !” 

“ You were the victims of a frightful conspiracy, 
and Mr. Pulford was only the instrument of 
another's will. Did these jailers actually attempt 
your lives V 

Cecil told him of her winter’s experiences, of the 


A I the Mou 7 itain Inn. 271 


j long, dreary days of toil in the remote northern 
eyrie, of her walks with Gretchen, attended by 
Maria, and of the terrible discovery her old servant 
I had made upon that awful night of Gretchen's visit 
j to the kitchen. She narrated, in shuddering tones, 
the events that had followed, her own visit to the 
kitchen, the conversation she had overheard, the 
discovery of herself and Gretchen by her enemies, 
her narrow escape from death upon that night, the 
i long subsequent imprisonment, the attempted mur- 
der, and the thrilling incidents of her escape from 
the old house of Black Rock, and her wanderings 
thereafter. 

“ Now you know all,’' she said, when she had con- 
cluded. Gretchen thought that Mr. Pulford might 
have some connection with the man who brought 
me to Zorlitz. Mr. Pulford certainly hired Jarvis 
and his companions to destroy me.” 

“ He was the instrument employed by a jealous 
woman to get you out of her way,” said Grafton. 

That woman was Lady Trevor.” 

“ But I never harmed her — ” 

You came between her and her fondest ambi- 
tions. She is past her first youth, and she beheld in 
you a young girl, beautiful as a vision, and she 
feared you. When she quarreled with her lover,” 
said Grafton, calling to his assistance the lie he had 
invented months before, and sent him from her, 
he went with me to the Black Forest on a hunting 
expedition ; he met you and was charmed with your 
beauty and sweetness. How could he have helped 
being so ? He believed that he loved you — pardon 


272 


Cecil Rosse. 


roe, Miss Cecil, if I wound your feelings, but I must 
tell the story correctly. It is time that you heard 
the whole truth. He asked the old pastor’s consent 
to pay his addresses to you. Herr Brocken told him 
the story of your origin. The earl is very proud ; he 
could not marry a woman of unknown birth, not if the 
woman were Venus herself. He hastened back to 
England, determined to conquer his passion for you. 
He went to his hunting-box in Scotland. Lady 
Trevor was at Castle Cliff, Lord St. Leonards’ 
hunting-seat, only five miles distant from his own 
place. They met again and again, and, as might 
have been expected, made up their quarrel and 
renewed their engagement of marriage. But Lady 
Trevor is a jealous person. She could not forgive 
Lord Glenham for permitting his affections to 
wander to you. She regarded you as her rival and 
hated you.” 

The girl’s proud, sweet mouth quivered. 

Still, why should she kill me ?” she asked. 

“ You had come between her and her love. Then, 
Lord St. Leonards saw you and fell in love with 
you, in a fatherly sort of way, and was anxious to 
adopt you. You reminded him of some one he had 
known, perhaps, and he was determined to find 
you, and avowed his intention of making you his 
heiress in place of his granddaughter. Lady Trevor. 
The widow feared that you would cut her out of her 
expected legacies, and she wanted you removed 
from her path. If jealousy and baffled greed do not 
seem sufficient motives for her attempts at murder, 
* remember that she is no well-principled person, but 


At the Mountain Inn. 


273 


a dangerous, terrible woman, whose will has been 
her law all her life long. She is hard, selfish and 
unscrupulous, a thoroughly wicked woman, who 
will scruple at no crime to attain her purposes, if 
that crime can be worked out in secret without fear 
of detection.'' 

‘‘ And it is such a woman that Lord Glenham 
loves ?" 

He does not know her as you and I do. Love is 
blind, you know." 

Cecil's face drooped to her pillow. Her quivering 
features showed her agitation at the mention of 
Lord Glenham's name. 

“ I suppose," said Gretchen, that no one but you 
searched for Miss Cecil, Mr. Crafton ?" 

No one but me and the detectives I em- 
ployed. Who else was there to search ?" 

Who indeed ?" said Cecil, sorrowfully. Did — 

did Lord Glenham learn of my disappearance ?" 

^‘Yes, I told him. He was sorry, of course, and 
he wished me success in my search, but he was too 
occupied with his own concerns to assist me." 

“ When is he to be married ?" asked Gretchen. 

Crafton glanced at the girl's half-hidden face. 
He knew that she loved Glenham with all her 
young soul. He knew that she was listening in a 
breathless agony tor his answer. He determined to 
cut short at once any possibly lingering hope she 
might entertain, and answered : 

“ Lord Glenham and Lady Trevor are married. 
The wedding occurred last week in London*" 

There was a little trembling of the girl’s figure. 


2 74 


Cecil Rosse. 


but no exclamation, nor sign of grief. Cecil hid her 
sorrow bravely in her own heart, as something too 
sacred for others* eyes to behold. Yet the pitying 
angels, knowing all her anguish, all the bitterness 
of her despair, must have wept for her in that hour 
of supreme agony and desolation. 

“ Married ?’* said Gretchen. He is married ?** 
And to Lady Trevor !” affirmed Crafton. 
“ Lady Glenham, the dowager countess, is delighted 
with her new daughter-in-law. And Lord St. 
Leonards was present at the ceremony and gave 
away the bride. He presented her with the 
St. Leonards family diamonds, and showed con- 
clusively that he was on the best of terms with her 
at last !** 

The old woman groaned heavily as she glanced 
at her young mistress. 

“ Perhaps, as Lady Trevor has made sure of both 
lover and fortune, she may let Miss Cecil alone 
now !’* she muttered. 

‘‘No one shall ever harm Miss Rosse again while 
I live,** said Crafton, earnestly. “ I shall make her 
safety and happiness my chief care !** 

Cecil hid her face in her shawl and was silent. 
Crafton became thoughtful, and brooded exultantly 
over his success. 

He had found Miss Rosse ! She was in his 
charge ! He had persuaded her that Lord Glenham 
was lost to her forever ! 

“And now,** he said to himself, “it will be easy 
to persuade her to become my wife ! But if she 


At the Mountain hin. 


275 


refuses, I will try force ! Mine she shall be within 
a week 

He set his teeth together in a hard and grim 
expression that augured ill for Cecil’s future in case 
she opposed his will. 

They rode on for some hours, arriving about the 
middle of the afternoon at the little mountain inn at 
which Crafton had spent the preceding night. 

Here they alighted. The horses were driven 
around to the stable, while Miss Rosse and Gretehen 
were shown up to a private room adjoining the 
lady’s parlor. 

Crafton ordered a good dinner — the best the 
house afforded — and after a little chat with the 
landlord, a tall, raw-boned Highlander, walked up 
to the parlor. It was unoccupied. The day was 
unusually warm for the season, and the quaint, old- 
fashioned windows were open at the bottom, and 
the home-made curtains, with netted fringe, swayed 
in the soft breeze. 

Crafton sat down at the window and looked 
out. In front of the inn was a wide court-yard 
open to the highway. A tall wooden pump and 
watering-trough occupied a prominent place in the 
foreground. But it was not at these features that 
Crafton looked. He was thinking of his success 
so far in his villainous course, and was occupied 
with his schemes to compel Cecil’s obedience in 
case of her resistance to his will. 

I have gone too far to back out now,” he 
thought. “ There is no turning back. She must 
be mine ! How gloriously beautiful she is ! This 


276 


Cecil Rosse. 


mad love of mine for her has received new force 
and impetus. I would sell my soul to win her 
love ! Patience ! Patience I And all I ask for will 
be mine !” 

A maid entered to lay the table. Before she 
had finished her task, the door of the inner room 
opened and Cecil came out, pale and sorrowful, but 
with a brave look on her young face, and a brave 
smile on her lips. She approached him and ;held 
out both her hands, and thanked him anew warmly 
for his kindness in coming so promptly to her aid. 

Crafton placed a chair for her. Gretchen sat 
down at a window. The maid brought in the well- 
cooked dinner, and placed it upon the table. The 
repast was tempting, comprising brook-trout, game- 
birds and domestic fowls, and Crafton selected the 
choicest tid-bits for Miss Rosse's plate. He waited 
upon her with assiduous care, yet unobtrusively, 
foreseeing her wants, and keeping up a pleasant 
chat about the country and his visit to Zorlitz, and 
giving Miss Rosse and Gretchen the score of kind 
messages which had been sent to them by the 
people of Zorlitz, to be delivered in the event of 
their discovery. 

We will resume our journey after an hour’s 
rest,” said Crafton, when they had finished their 
meal, Gretchen, who had been served at a side- 
table, included. ‘‘ The time is nearly up. Had you 
not better sit down a few moments before we set 
out again. Miss Rosse ? You do not look able to 
stand so long a journey.” 

^ I am stronger than I look,” replied Cecil. I 


At the Mountain hin. 


277 


am impatient to be again on the way. It is only 
when I am in motion that I can feel that I am really 
safe/' 

The horses are rested. If you will put on your 
bonnet and wraps, we will get under way." 

Miss Rosse and Gretchen retired to the inner 
room. 

1 shall put my fate to the test before reaching 
Inverness," thought Grafton. This afternoon shall 
decide her future and mine ! Hark ! What is that ?" 

The clatter of a horse's hoofs had reached his ears. 
He went to the window and looked out carelessly. 
He started back upon the instant with an oath. A 
horseman had just halted at the watering-trough in 
the yard below, and was eagerly questioning the 
hostler. This horseman, as Grafton recognized, to 
his utter horror and dismay, was the young Earl of 
Glenham, 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A DECLARATION OF LOVE. 

The consternation of Crafton, as he beheld Lord 
Glenham in front of the lonely mountain inn in the 
Scottish Highlands, was too great for description. 
He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. 
He had left the young earl in London. What had 
brought him here, so close upon his own track ? 
Had the earl discovered his perfidy ? Did he know 
that Miss Rosse was living — was here ? 

Crafton concealed himself, by a rapid movement, 
behind one of the window-curtains, and held his 
breath, while he stared at the horseman below in a 
wild excitement and alarm. 

The tones of Lord Glenham ’s voice fioated up to 
his ears. He could not distinguish the earl’s words, 
but he fancied that they formed an inquiry in re- 
gard to himself. He strained his hearing to catch 
the hostler's answer, and breathed more freely as he 
heard the man say loudly : 

The road to Loch Low is straight ahead, sir. 
Turn neither to the right nor to the left, an* ye’ll 
fetch up at the hoose o’ MacDougal.” 

[278] 



A Declaration of Love. 279 


Lord Glenham allowed his horse to satisfy his 
thirst at the trough, and then drew the animal’s 
head up abruptly, and moved on a few paces, as he 
said : 

“ Did a gentleman travelling in a post-chaise pass 
here last night ?” 

“ A gentleman on his way to Loch Low ? Ay, sir, 
he stoppit here the night, an’ went on his way i’ 
the marnin’.” 

Grafton drew his breath hard. 

Would the hostler volunteer the information that 
the gentleman had returned quite recently, with a 
young lady and her servant in his charge, and that 
the party were at that very moment within the inn ? 
Would the earl elicit the fact by further question- 
ing? 

A rustling sound in the inner room aroused new 
terrors within him. If Cecil should return to the 
parlor, should hear Lord Glenham’s voice, or chance 
to look from the window and see him, all would be 
lost. 

A cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. His 
legs trembled beneath him. A strange dizziness 
seized upon him. 

But the success that had attended him so far in 
his wicked schemes did not desert him now. Cecil 
did not enter the parlor. And further inquiries on 
the part of Lord Glenham, and further communica- 
tions on the part of the hostler, were frustrated by 
the appearance of the landlord upon the scene. He 
came out into the yard, greeting the earl respect- 
fully, and proffering the hospitalities of his house. 


28 o 


Cecil Rosse. 


I may stop on my return to-morrow/* said the 
earl. Just now I am in haste. I must reach the 
MacDougal place before nightfall.** 

He tossed a coin to the hostler, bowed to the land- 
lord, and touched up his horse, riding away upon 
the road leading to Loch Low at a good rate of 
speed. 

Crafton watched him out of sight with blank 
amaze, standing like a statue by the window. 

What brought him here ?’* he asked himself. 

“ He must have seen the signature of Gretchen’s 
letter when he picked it up and handed it to me in 
my chambers. But why did he not accuse me of 
double-dealing on the spot ? Why did he not call 
me a traitor and demand explanations ? He attended 
me to the station and went home. But he must 
have started on my track the next day. It would 
have been easy for him to track me to Inverness, 
and thence to Loch Low. I have left a distinct trail 
behind me — curse my stupidity.’* 

He conceived a theory nearly in accordance with 
the facts of the case. 

Lord Glenham had arrived at Edinburgh and had 
searched the hotel registers for Grafton’s name. 
After losing a day in vain inquiries, he returned to 
the railway station and interrogated the cabman 
who awaited the arrivals of the trains, the guards 
and station-masters. To his great surprise, he dis- 
covered that a gentleman answering precisely to the 
description he gave of Crafton, and who was beyond 
a shadow of doubt his kinsman, had proceeded to 
Inverness, after only an hour’s delay at Edinburgh. 


A Declaration of Love. 


281 


Accordingly the earl followed with all convenient 
speed. 

It was late in the evening when he arrived at 
Inverness. He secured lodgings at the Station 
Hotel, ascertained that Grafton had not been seen 
there, and, late as was the hour, procured a cab and 
went forth upon an exploring expedition. 

At none of the principal hotels could he obtain a 
clew to the movements of the man he sought. He 
returned to his lodgings, where he passed a restless 
and sleepless night, his mind occupied with the 
strange problems apparent to the reader. 

Upon the following morning, after breakfast, he 
resumed hiS tour of investigation. He visited the 
house at which Grafton had spent the night after 
his arrival, and not only discovered his kinsman’s 
recent presence there, but ascertained that Grafton 
had procured a carriage and had set out on the pre- 
vious day for Loch Low. 

Too impatient to await at Inverness the schemer’s 
return, he procured a horse and full instructions, 
and set out also for Loch Low. 

The possibility that Grafton might return to Inver, 
ness that day did not occur to him. He could not 
suppose that his kinsman would make a stay of but 
a single hour with the MacDougals, after so long a 
journey. He had no doubt but that he should find 
him at the farmhouse, and was therefore all eager- 
ness to press forward. 

When the earl had passed beyond the range of the 
traitor’s vision, Grafton drew a long breath of relief, 


282 


Cecil Rosse. 


as if an immense burden of apprehension and anxiety 
had been removed from his soul. 

We must be off at once !’' he muttered. “ What 
a frightful risk of discovery I have run ! If he were 
to meet some one who has seen us, he would turn 
back and find us here. We must not delay a 
moment longer !” 

He descended to the bar-parlor, found the land- 
lord, paid his bill, and ordered his chaise to be 
brought around immediately. 

Then he returned to the parlor up stairs. 

He found Miss Rosse and old Gretchen, wearing 
bonnets and wraps, awaiting his return. 

He smoothed his anxious brows and informed 
Cecil that the chaise waited. The rumble of wheels 
confirmed his statement. He offered her his arm 
and led her down to the court-yard, just as the 
vehicle drew up before the door. Crafton helped 
Cecil in and piled shawls and rugs about her, and 
then handed in Gretchen. 

Now we’re off,” he said cheerfully, springing 
into the chaise and slamming the door. “An extra 
half sovereign, Jarvy, if you get us to Inverness 
to-night and in good time !” 

The driver responded by starting his horses 
briskly, and the chaise rolled out of the court-yard, 
the landlord and the hostler, with all the supernu- 
meraries belonging to the establishment, coming 
out to witness the departure. 

Cecil sank back among her impromptu cushions 
and was silent. 

Crafton put his head out of the window with 


A Declaration of Love, 


283 


singular frequency and looked back, but he saw 
nothing of Lord Glenham. His good fortune was, as 
usual, in the ascendant. 

I’ve escaped that peril by the merest chance,” 
he thought, with a shudder. Another question on 
Glenham’s part, another minute’s delay, even to 
listen to that hostler, and the fact of my presence at 
the inn, with Miss Rosse, would have been dis- 
covered ! Who would have dreamed of Glenham’s 
appearance here ? Well, I am upon my guard now ; 
I will be prepared for him.” 

Flinging aside his anxiety and care, he exerted 
himself to make the journey less tedious to his 
young charge. He told her of his winter’s search 
for her, carefully avoiding to state that Lord Glen- 
ham and Lord St. Leonards had joined in that 
search, and shared in all his anxieties and terrors, 
and that the earl had done even more than himself 
in the endeavor to further Cecil’s recovery. He 
rehearsed his interviews with Lady Trevor, and 
asked many questions in regard to Black Rock and 
Cecil’s jailers there. 

“ Pulford must have known of that old, deserted 
house,” he commented. It must have been his 
idea — shutting you up there. He went on a yacht- 
ing excursion several years ago with the late Sir 
Albert Trevor, making a circuit of Scotland, and 
visiting all the islands in the vicinity. He must at 
that time have picked up his knowledge of this old 
haunted house of the Cathcairns, and he has saved 
the knowledge until now for this infamous use ! 


284 


Cecil Rosse. 


He’s deep, that Pulford — deeper than I ever gavej 
him credit for !” ! 

Then Lady Trevor did not own the house at 
Black Rock, sir ?” asked old Gretchen. 

‘‘No, indeed. Pulford took possession of it, I 
don’t doubt, without leave or license from any one. 
It appears, from what MacDougal said, that a 
tragedy once occurred there, and the house has not 
been occupied for fifty years, until he, with a 
pirate’s freebooter ism, seized upon it. We never 
thought to watch Pulford. But if we had we should 
have discovered nothing, I dare say. Such a cun- 
ning old fox as he would not be likely to betray 
himself.” 

“And you have spent all these months of my 
captivity in searching for me, Mr Grafton ?” said 
Cecil, wonderingly. “ I think I should have been 
happier if I had known that even one person was 
looking for me !” 

“ I have not known one minute’s happiness since 
your disappearance, Miss Cecil,” said Crafton, 
ardently — “ until to-day.” 

The girl’s white cheek flushed faintly. She 
shrank back among her shawls. 

“ I have devoted all my time and energies to the 
task of finding you,” continued Crafton, unable to 
control himself longer, giving himself up to the 
passion that filled his being. “ I have had no 
enjoyment, no satisfaction, no peace since the hour 
in which I heard of your loss. I have traveled ^ 
everywhere, by night and by day ; have followed 
up false clews, have left no stone unturned, as I 


A Declaration of Love. 


285 


might say, in my search. And *in the^ hour of my 
despair, when I said to myself that you must be 
dead, Gretchen’s letter came, and I lived again ! I 
started by the first train, Cecil ; I came straight to 
you, and I found you ! You are safe now, Cecil. 
No one shall harm you again while I live !’* 

I knew you would protect my young mistress, 
sir,’' sobbed old Gretchen, in her joy at this assur* 
ance. 

I will guard her with my life !” declared Graf- 
ton, solemnly. Cecil, since the day I met you in 
the shadows of the Black Forest, I have loved you. 
It was not your beauty alone, splendid as it is, that 
won my admiration. I did not fall in love with you 
in a fit of pique, nor abandon you when I heard the 
story of your origin. My love is true and steadfast 
as eternity ! I love you with all my soul— I shall 
love you always. Lord Glenham is married to Lady 
Trevor. There is no one to care for you — no one 
but me. You are tired with your struggle with life, 
my poor little bird you have beaten your wings 
against prison-bars until they are worn and strength- 
less. You are alone in the world, utterly alone, 
helpless, friendless, with bitter enemies that seek 
your life!” 

Cecil’s lips quivered, but she did not speak. 

“ Alone, did I say ?” cried Crafton. Helpless ? 
Friendless.^ No, not while I live! You are not 
alone while I can defend you ! You are not friend- 
less while my heart continues to beat. You are not 
homeless while I have a roof that I can call my own. 


286 


Cecil Rosse, 


Cecil, accept my • love, my care, my devotion, my 
home ! Be my wife !’* 

He bent toward her and caught her hand in his. 
His dark face was full of agitation. His black eyes 
were pleading and anxious and full of ardent love. 

Cecil was frightened. 

Mr. Crafton — she said, trying to draw her 
hand away. 

Call me Maldred, darling. You must have seen 
that I love you, Cecil. It was love that made me 
search all Europe for you — love that brought me to 
you so promptly at Gretchen’s bidding. Cecil, give 
me the right to protect you always from your 
enemies. I have a pleasant country home, I have 
just dismissed my tenant from it ; let me take you 
to it, as my wife !” 

“ You are very kind, Mr. Crafton,** said Cecil, in a 
troubled, faltering voice. I suppose I ought to have 
foreseen this, but I never dreamed of you as a lover. 
I thought of you as Lord Glenham*s friend.** 

“ And so I was until he trifled with your innocent 
heart and flung it from him like a broken toy. If 
he had loved you, Cecil, I should have taken my 
secret down to my grave untold. But he is married 
to another. Surely you will not wear the willow for 
him who does not love you, who is the husband of 
another woman ? Reward my love and devotion, 
Cecil, with your hand in marriage, and let me have 
the privilege of making your future life safe and 
happy.*’ 

“ What can I say ? I do not love you, Mr, Craf- 
ton—** 


A Declaration of Love. 


287 


I will undertake to win your love, if you will 
give me time/’ urged Grafton. 

Cecil twisted her fingers together nervously. 

You force me to tell the truth, Mr. Grafton,” she 
said, brokenly. “ In spite of all that has passed, I 
love Lord Glenham still, with all my soul — ” 

Hush, Miss Cecil,” interrupted old Gretchen, in 
a tone of distress and warning. “You know not 
what you say. It is not maidenly to avow your love 
for a man who* is married to another woman. 
Besides, he never was betrothed to you.” 

“ Not in words,” answered Cecil, her passionate 
young eyes all aglow ; “ but he wooed me in the Black 
Forest as men woo the women they seek to marry. 
He told my dear uncle, the Herr Pastor of Zorlitz, 
that he loved me, and wanted me for his wife. We 
were not betrothed, but if ever eyes spoke love to 
eyes, his spoke love to mine. If ever soft and loving 
tones wooed, his wooed me. ‘ Unmaidenly ?’ Per- 
haps I am ; for I believed — I believe still — that he 
loved me then, and I loved him in return. He has 
learned how to unlove. The story of my birth 
frightened him from me. But I cannot so easily 
learn to forget. And how can I become your wife, 
Mr. Crafton, with this love for him still warm and 
strong within my heart ? I have risked your scorn 
in telling you all the truth ; after your generous 
avowail I was in honor bound to tell you.” 

In her girlish shame and despair, Cecil covered her 
face with her hands. 

“ I knew, or suspected, all this before,” said Craf- 
ton, gently, and in a tone of sympathy that soothed 


288 


Cecil Rosse. 


and comforted ; “ but you have too much self- 
respect, Cecil, to go on loving another woman’s 
husband. You will outgrow this first love in time, 
and I shall feel myself happy and honored in win- 
ning the calmer love of your riper years. You can 
make me happy and blessed above all other men. 
I can smooth the sorrows and troubles from your 
pathway, if you will allow me. Your respect, your 
esteem, your kindly regard, will content me until I 
can win your deeper affection.” 

“ Say ‘ yes,’ Miss Cecil,” pleaded old Gretchen. “ Do 
not reject the heart and home and protection Mr. 
Craft on offers you.” 

The girl’s drooping attitude and downcast eyes 
and strange pallor did not inspire her lover with a 
conviction of his success. He continued to urge his 
cause with ardent pleadings, and Cecil listened with 
evident pain and shrinking. 

‘‘ Do not urge me further,” she said, at last, in a 
broken voice. You are very kind ; may God bless 
and reward you for your goodness to me. But I 
cannot wrong you by becoming your wife while my 
heart belongs to another. Nay, hear me out. I 
cannot wrong myself by marrying where I do not 
love. It pains me to reward your kindness by this 
seeming ingratitude, but I cannot, in justice to you 
or to myself, give you any other answer.” 

“ Oh, Miss Cecil !” sobbed Gretchen. 

A spasm of pain convulsed the lovely young face. 
A dreary look settled upon the tender mouth — a 
look that pained Crafton to the heart. 

“ I have spoken too soon !” he said, tenderly. 


A Declaration of Love, 


289 


Let it be as if I had said nothing, Cecil. I will 
wait months — years — 

‘‘ I can never be your wife, Mr. Crafton,'' returned 
Cecil, desolately. I shall never marry. I have 
almost decided to go back to Zorlitz, and live and 
die in the shadow of the Black Forest. I have 
money enough to buy me a little house, and 
Gretchen and I will carve wood and train song- 
birds, and earn enough to satisfy our simple 
wants — ” 

You could never bear such a life as that — 
never. With your youth, beauty and accomplish- 
ments — with your spirit and ambition — to sink 
into a peasant’s bare and hard existence would be 
impossible !” 

I don’t know what I shall do. I am not decided. 
But I am tired of this hard and terrible world.” 

Why will you not let me shelter and befriend 
you ?” asked Crafton. Am I so utterly repulsive 
to you ?” 

No, no. You know better, Mr. Crafton. The 
man whom Lord Glenham called his friend is worthy 
any woman’s love, but I have no heart to give you, 
and I will not wrong you nor myself by giving you 
my hand when I cannot give you my heart.” 

Despite her gentleness, there was a firmness in 
her tone and manner that convinced her suitor that 
his case was hopeless. The heart that had loved 
Lord Glenham could never love one of meaner 
mould. He could have gnashed his teeth in his 
rage and despair. He put his face to the window 
and looked out upon the dreary Highland scenery 


Cecil Rosse, 


290 


with stony eyes and livid visage, full of silent wrath 
and horrible bitterness. 

The very difficulties in his way made the prize 
seem all the more desirable and worth the winning. 
She would not be his through gentle means ; then 
he would try force. He would make her his wife in 
spite of her opposition. He would crush her spirit, 
and compel her to assent to his proposal of marriage. 
After all that had passed, he could not suffer her to 
pass out of his keeping and go her own way to tell the 
story of his treachery, to encounter Lord Glenham, or 
to attract new suitors, and so be won from him for- 
ever. His visage was set in a hard and grim expres- 
sion, and the gleam of his eyes had in it something 
terrible. If Cecil could have seen him at that 
moment, her tender-hearted pity and remorse would 
have given place to actual terror of him 

Forgive me,” she said, softly, troubled at his 
long silence. 

He commanded himself, and turned to her with a 
sorrowful smile. 

“ I have nothing to forgive,” he said, hypocriti- 
cally. “ I would have been your lover, but you have 
no heart for me. I accept your rejection of me, 
Cecil, but if I may not become your husband, at least 
let me be your friend.*’ 

We will be friends,” said Cecil, holding out her 
hand with frank warmth, her countenance brighten- 
ing. “ If you will accept so poor a thing as the 
friendship of a nameless girl like me.” 

I shall be more honored by your friendship than 
by that of the queen. Look upon me as your 


A Declaration of Love. 


291 


brother. I cannot leave you at Inverness, exposed 
to the perils of Pulford’s pursuit. I must see you 
safe again in London at your former lodgings, and 
then you shall see me only when you will.*' 

Cecil expressed her gratitude, and then the 
hypocrite again looked from the windows with 
gleaming eyes. 

She does not suspect the trap I have laid for 
her,” he thought. I have tried gentle means — now 
for force ! She would not have me as her humble 
lover — now she shall know me as her master !” 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE PICTURE RECOGNIZED. 

Considering the hilly nature of a large share of 
the road, the post-chaise made very good time 
indeed, rattling into the streets of Inverness at a 
late hour of the evening, and drawing up with a 
grand flourish before the door of the quiet, old- 
fashioned hostelry which Crafton had before patron- 
ized. 

A servant came down and opened the door of the 
vehicle. Crafton sprang out and assisted Miss 
Rosse to alight. He gave her his arm and helped 
her up the steps, while old Gretchen clambered out 
by herself and followed them. 

The landlord met them in the hall, and informed 
them that the rooms Crafton had ordered before- 
hand to be prepared in expectation of his return, 
were in readiness for occupancy; 

Lead the way,” said Crafton, briefly. ‘‘We will 
follow.” 

He kept Cecil’s arm in his, gently compelling her 
to lean upon him as they ascended the stair. They 
were conducted to a pleasant, old-fashioned, wains- 
[292] 



The Picture Recognized, 293 


cotted parlor overlooking the street. Two bed- 
rooms adjoined this apartment, one intended for the 
use of Miss Rosse, the other, a mere closet, having 
been prepared for her servant. 

The parlor was warmed and lighted. The night 
was clear and cold, with a chilly breeze blowing 
from the mountains. The small fire on the hearth 
was delightful. Cecil stood before it, basking in the 
warmth, her hands held to the ruddy blaze, while 
the landlord made inquiries after the luggage. As 
the landlord turned to depart, with Grafton’s order 
for supper, she retired to her own room, whither 
Gretchen followed her. 

The schemer walked the fioor until their return, 
thoughtful, troubled, and deeply anxious. 

Cecil had made some few changes in her toilet. 
Her shabby gown, which had been badly worn dur- 
ing her wanderings, was carefully brushed, her hair 
was well arranged, and she had procured a fresh 
linen collar and cuffs through the kindness of one of 
the chambermaids. 

Crafton advanced to meet her, and led her to a 
chair near the fire. He was gentle and courteous as 
ever, unobtrusive in his attentions, yet considerate 
of her comfort in even the smallest things. There 
was nothing in his demeanor of the disappointed 
suitor ; he was like an affectionate elder brother, 
expecting nothing and ready to bestow everything. 

Gretchen appeared immediately after her young 
mistress. Supper was soon served, and after it, 
Miss Rosse and her attendant retired for the night. 

The private parlor was the common property of 


294 


Cecil Rosse. 


the party. Crafton sat by the fire until the servant 
had withdrawn with the tea-equipage, and then he 
descended to the bar-parlor, where he found the 
landlord alone, and in the act of closing the bar for 
the night. 

Give me a brandy-and-soda,'’ he commanded. 

His order was filled promptly. 

We will get off on the early train,” said Crafton. 

Please see that we are called in time, and that a 
good breakfast is served to us, and that a carriage 
is in readiness. I will settle the bill now, if you will 
kindly make it out.” 

“There was a gentleman here this morning 
inquiring after you, sir,” said the landlord, proceed- 
ing to his desk and making out the required bill. 
“ He hired a horse and went after you on the way 
to Loch Low. Perhaps you met him somewhere, 
sir ?” 

“ No, I met no one whom I knew,” responded 
Crafton. “ My room is opposite the private parlor, 
I believe. Very good !” 

He settled his bill and returned to the parlor up 
stairs. The lights were burning. The fire was low. 
He sat down before the hearth and gave himself up 
to his thoughts. 

Presently the door of Miss Rossers room opened 
and Gretchen came forth. She carried a little packet 
in her hand, and her eyes were red with weeping. 
She approached Crafton with a cautious tread, and 
spoke to him in a low voice, scarcely above a whis- 
per. 

“ I hoped to find you here, sir,” she said. “ My 


The Picture Recognized, 


295 


young mistress is asleep. She dropped off the min- 
ute her head touched the pillow. This day’s hard 
ride, after the fatigue and exposure of last night, 
and her illness of a week at MacDougal’s, has been 
more than she could bear. She’ll sleep like an 
angel until the morning.” 

“ I hope so, I’m sure.” 

“ I am on the way to my room,” continued Gret- 
chen, “ and it’s no treason to my young mistress to 
stop to speak a word to you, who have been so kind 
to her. Believe me, sir, she is very grateful — ” 

“ I want more than gratitude !” 

If you would give her time, sir, she would give 
you love,” said Gretchen, earnestly. She has well- 
nigh worshiped that false lord who is now married 
to another ; but she is too well -principled to go on 
loving another woman’s husband. If you will only 
give her time — say a year or two — ” 

Say an eternity ! I cannot wait a month. I 
have given up my whole life to her. I think of her, 
dream of her, adore her. Can you not persuade her, 
Gretchen, to marry me to-morrow ?” he questioned, 
eagerly. If you can and will, I will settle an 
annuity upon you for your life. You shall always 
have a home with Miss Cecil, and be cherished by 
us both. You have influence with her — ” 

“ But not so much as you think, sir. She is the 
lady, I am the servant. It ought so to be, for she is 
educated, she loves books and ways I do not com- 
prehend, and I was brought up to toil. She loves 
me, for I was in a manner her nurse in childhood, 
but she would never allow me to dictate to her, or 


296 


Cecil Rosse. 


pervsuade her into an action her conscience or judg- 
ment did not approve. She thinks for herself, sir, 
and has a clear head as well as a warm heart. When 
Miss Cecil says no, she means no. And, to tell you 
the whole truth, sir, I'm afraid she will never marry 
you. She has no heart to give you, and she will not 
marry without love." 

“ Yet you just now encouraged me to think she 
would some time love me ?" 

That was because I hoped so. My wishes and 
my judgment conflict. I would give all I have to 
see her safely married to you, and to know that you 
stood between her and her enemies like a bulwark 
of safety. But I dare not urge her, Mr. Crafton. I 
talked with her this evening about you. And she 
says that she shall never marry any one. She likes 
you as a friend and brother. But she has no love 
for you such as a wife should give to her husband. 
And then," added Gretchen, there is that mystery 
about her birth. It frightened off Lord Glenham, 
and Miss Cecil thinks it must stand forever between 
her and marriage." 

“ That is all nonsense. Her beauty will compen- 
sate for lack of birth." 

I think so too. But if Miss Cecil knew that she 
was of honorable parentage, a great load of dread 
would be taken from her, sir. I think if you could 
trace out her relations, she might love you out of 
sheer gratitude. After what you have already done 
for her, that would crown her indebtedness, and she 
could no longer refuse to marry you." 

“ But how can I trace out her history ?" demanded 


The Picture Recogjiized, 


297 


Grafton. “ I have heard the whole story from Lord 
Glenham in a moment of confidence. How can the 
man who brought the child Cecil to Zorlitz be dis- 
covered after a lapse of fourteen or fifteen years V 

“ The good Frau Brocken had been a governess 
and was very accomplished/' responded Gretchen. 

The walls of the parsonage were hung with her 
drawings and paintings. After that man had gone 
away leaving the child, she sat down and made a 
picture of him upon a slip of paper — *’ 

“ Ah T breathed Grafton, bending forward eagerly. 

My young mistress possesses that picture. It is 
in this note-book in my hand. After Miss Cecil 
dropped asleep, I took the note-book from her pocket, 
where she has carried it for weeks and weeks. She 
brought it safely from Black Rock, carried it all 
through our wanderings, saved it in our flight from 
Loch Low, and here it is ! I resolved to-night to 
show it to you, sir. Miss Cecil’s best friend, and ask 
you to find out who she is, if she has any friends, and 
all the terrible mystery of her hiding away in the 
Black Forest. If you can do this, you will place Miss 
Cecil under obligations which she must strive to 
repay by becoming your wife !” 

A clever idea, but I fear impracticable. Let 
me see the picture.” 

Gretchen opened the note-book and extracted 
therefrom a scrap of paper which she placed in his 
hands. 

Crafton held it to the light, stared at the picture 
delineated upon it, started, and uttered an ejacula- 
tion of amazement. 


298 


Cecil Rosse. 


The picture was evidently the portrait of an Eng- 
lishman, and was drawn with spirit and accuracy. 
It depicted a fair and rather effeminate face, with a 
low, narrow forehead, small, blue eyes, the left one 
having a peculiar droop almost amounting to a 
squint. There was a big mole upon the left cheek 
which the long side-whiskers could not be coaxed to 
cover. The mouth, contrasting singularly with the 
smallness of the nose, was heavy, thick-lipped, and 
strangely cruel in its expression. Taken altogether, 
the face was not unhandsome, and could scarcely be 
termed remarkable. Taken feature by feature it in- 
dicated a remorseless disposition, which would stop at 
nothing in the way of the gratification of its desires. 

Crafton actually turned pale as he regarded this 
picture. His nostrils dilated ; he seemed struggling 
with a profound and terrible agitation. He seemed 
like one who has made an appalling discovery. 

“ You know the man ?” cried Gretchen, shrilly, all 
excitement. You have seen him ?*’ 

Crafton gave a last long look at the picture and 
gave it back into her hands. 

I think I have seen a face like that somewhere !” 
he said, slowly. “ I can't be sure. You must give 
me time to collect my thoughts.” 

But you recognized it — ” 

I seemed to, perhaps. I have certainly seen a 
face like it. Hide that picture, Gretchen. Keep 
your own counsel, and leave everything to me. I 
promise you that I will unravel this mystery of Miss 
Rosse’s origin.” 

‘‘ You will, sir V* 


The Picture Recognized, 


299 


I will. If your young mistress has been wronged, 
I will see that she has her rights. I will clear the 
stain from her name. You have done well to trust 
me. I will win Miss Cecihs gratitude — yes, and her 
love also.'* 

He rose up, his eyes glistening, his manner still 
agitated, yet indicative of strange exultation. Gret- 
chen replaced the picture in the note-book, and after 
a few last words of grateful thanks, returned to the 
chamber of her young mistress, where, upon second 
thought, she had determined to pass the night. 

Grafton heard the door locked, and then he laughed 
softly — a strange, triumphant laugh. 

“ That picture is a revelation," he muttered. It 
is a key to the whole mystery. That pastor's wife 
was cunning. The picture — ^great heaven ! — to think 
it should fall into my hands ! The picture is the 
portrait of the late Sir Albert Trevor !" 

He began to pace the floor with hurried yet steal- 
thy tread. 

“ No wonder that Lady Trevor schemed to destroy 
this girl !" he said to himself. ‘^She would have killed 
her, not because she was her rival in Lord Glen- 
ham's affections, not because she feared her fascina- 
tions with the earl, but because she dared not allow 
her again to meet the old Marquis of St. Leonards ! 
The whole ghastly mystery begins to dawn upon 
me ! I have a suspicion as to who this girl really 
is r 

His excitement had increased to fever-heat. 

“ By heaven, I am right !" he whispered, almost 
audibly. The girl is — but I’ll prove her identity 


Cecil Rosse. 


300 


and claim her rights when she is safely my wife. 
Was ever a more daring game practised ? She is 
more than ever a prize! I'll run no risks — I'll keep 
her safe as any miser ever kept his treasure. I'll 
marry her within a week, and then burst the whole 
thing upon Lady Trevor and Pulford I In a single 
week all England shall ring with the infamy of those 
Trevors and worship me as the hero of a romance ! 
In the meantime, I must not forget that Lord Glen- 
ham is close upon my track, that he now knows that 
Miss Rosse is alive and with me, and that he will 
prove himself a very tiger when he discovers my 
treachery and her peril. I've a hard task before 
me," and he smiled exultantly, but I'll conquer ! 
My pretty Cecil, my Lady Trevor, Mr. Pulford, my 
Lord Glenham, my proud Marquis of St. Leonards, 
what would you not, one and all, give for my start- 
ling discovery of to-night ? I hold the clew to the 
whole mystery of Cecil Rosse. And I hold you all 
in my power, in the hollow of my hand, to crush or 
release, at my pleasure ! One person will come out 
of the game winner, and that person is Maldred 
Crafton." 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

A SECOND DISAPPEARANCE. 

Lord Glenham pursued his journey, reaching the 
hamlet of Loch Low soon after nightfall. The air 
was crisp and clear, with a touch of frost in it, the 
stars shone brightly, and the distant mountains 
were outlined against the horizon, looking like an 
encircling wall that shut in this secluded valley from 
the outside world. 

The earl’s spirits were in a high state of exalta- 
tion. He believed that he would find Miss Rosse 
in this lonely hamlet, for Gretchen would never 
have voluntarily become separated from her young 
mistress. He believed that he would find Crafton 
here also, since he had not met him on the way to 
Inverness. He thought of Crafton as his true and 
devoted friend, who had hastened hither to aid Miss 
Rosse and to restore her to her lover. No suspi- 
cion of Craf ton’s perfidy invaded his noble soul. 
He was too honorable himself to lightly suspect 
dishonesty in another. 

He drew up before the door of a shepherd’s hut 
upon the outskirt of the hamlet, and, without dis- 

[301] 


302 


Cecil Rosse. 


mounting, rapped upon the door with the handle of 
his riding-whip. The occupant opened the door, 
thrusting out into the starlight a shock of flame- 
colored hair, and a stolid but inquiring visage. 

“Can you direct me to the house of Mr. Mac- 
Dougal T inquired the earl, courteously. 

“ Nay, sir, it be burnit doon the last night, 
sir,’’ replied the shepherd. 

“ And Mr. MacDougal ?” 

“ Is at the house o’ his neebor, Angus MacLean,” 
said the shepherd. “ The lang hoose wi’ the 
thatched roof beyond the turn i’ the road, sir. 
There be a mort o’ people hae coom o’ late to see 
Willum MacDougal,” he added, regarding the young 
earl inquisitively. “ I canna ca’ to mind when so 
mony strangers hae coom to Loch Low before.” 

The earl expressed his thanks for the information 
rendered, but did not pause to satisfy the evident 
curiosity of his informant. He rode on through the 
hamlet, passed the lake which gave name to the 
group of houses, and came to a halt before the 
dwelling of Angus MacLean, whose hospitalities to 
the MacDougal family, to Mr. Pulford and Jarvis, 
to Miss Rosse, Gretchen and Mr. Crafton, we have 
already noted. 

A farm laborer was crossing the yard on his way 
from the barn to the house when the earl came up. 
He informed his lordship, in answer to inquiries, 
that this was the residence of Mr. Angus MacLean, 
and Lord Glenham hastily dismounted, gave his 
horse in charge of the laborer, and knocked loudly 
upon the kitchen door. 


A Second Disappearance. 


303 


The farmer himself appeared in response to his 
summons. 

The earl inquired for Mr. MacDougal. 

“Coom in, coom in," said MacLean, hospitably. 
“ Ye’ll find a’ the family here. We are a* thegither, 
sir." 

He flung open the door wide, and the earl entered. 
He found himself in a long, low kitchen, with heavy 
beams over head blackened by time and smoke, 
and with a great cavernous hearth blazing with 
logs. About this hearth were grouped the men of 
the MacLean family with their male visitors. The 
women were gathered about a long table, upon 
which were several tallow candles, and all of them, 
hostess and guests, were busy sewing homespun 
cloth into gowns and underwear for the benefit of 
the despoiled MacDougals. 

“ Willum," said Mr. MacLean, addressing Mac- 
Dougal, ‘‘here is a visitor to see ye." 

MacDougal arose and came forward. The women 
suspended their sewing, the men paused in their 
tasks to stare at the new-comer. The stately bear- 
ing of the young earl, his fair and noble beauty, 
his gentle courtesy and air of high and perfect 
breeding, as apparent here in this lonely Highland 
dwelling as in the Queen’s drawing-room, made a 
profound impression. His lordship bowed to the 
sturdy Highlander in polite greeting, and then sent 
a second long and searching glance about the apart- 
ment. 

He had expected to find Miss Rosse here, and his 


304 


Cecil Rosse. 


kinsman also. A look of disappointment clouded 
his visage as he marked their absence. 

Permit me to introduce myself, Mr. MacDou- 
gal,” he said. “ I am the Earl of Glenham, the 
friend of Miss Rosse, whom I expected to find at 
your house.” 

My hoose, my laird, is burnit doon,” replied Mac- 
Dougal, respectfully. An' I an' my family are 
dependant upon the kindness o' a neebor for shelter 
as ye maun see.'' 

And Miss Rosse ? Where is she ? Is she not 
here also ?” demanded the earl, quickly. 

“ Take a cheer, my laird,'' said MacDougal. If 
so be ye are a f rien' o' Miss Rosse, there be mooch 
to tell ye. Sit doon, mon.'' 

The young lady is safe ?'' 

‘‘Ay, safe as a bird i' its nest,” declared Mac- 
Dougal. “ Hae ye travelled far, my laird ?” 

The earl, with a great sigh of relief, took posses- 
sion of the chair MacLean placed for him near the 
hearth. 

“ I came from Inverness to-day,” he answered. 
“ Is Miss Rosse at the house of some neighbor ? 
Has Mr. Grafton been. here ?” 

“ He cam' the marnin’,” responded MacDougal. 
“ There hae been the very witches' wark in this 
matter, my laird. We were imposed upon by the 
mon Pulford — ” 

“ By whom ?” cried the earl, starting. 

“ Mr. Pulford. An’ before him was the mon 
Jairyis, his accomplice. The young lady hae been 
shuttit oop a' the past winter i' the loneliest an' most 


A Second Disappearance. 


305 


God-forsaken hoose i’ a’ the Scottish coast. It was 
a' the wark o’ ane Lady Trevor — ” 

The earl started yet more violently. 

‘‘The work of Lady Trevor?” he repeated, in 
amaze. 

“Ay, so I gathered frae the speech o’ Mr. Grafton 
wi’ Miss Rosse. Mr. Pulford com’ here yester even- 
ing, ca’ing himself Mr. Grafton, an’ confairmed the 
wards o’ the mon Jairvis. An’ it was a’ settlet that 
they should tak’ awa the young lady this marnin’, 
but Providence prevented.” 

MacDougal, warming with the story, related, in 
graphic but simple language, the manner of Gecil’s 
arrival at his house, her illness, the appearance of 
Jarvis, who called himself Dr. Graham, the pro- 
prietor of a mad-house, and all the incidents con- 
nected with the stay of the young lady and her per- 
secuter under his roof, ending with a description of 
the burning of his house, the narrow escape of his 
family from death, and the supposed destruction of 
Miss Rosse and her servant. 

The earl listened breathlessly, not once interrupt- 
ing the narration, although more than once his 
anxiety to learn the present whereabouts of Miss 
Rosse nearly overcame his patience. Only the 
timely remembrance that MacDougal had declared 
her “ safe and well ” enabled him to listen quietly to 
the long story. 

While MacDougal was thus employed, Mrs. Mac- 
Lean and her daughters were busily engaged in the 
preparation of supper for the unexpected guest. 
The MacDougal family and the men of the MacLean 


3o6 


Cecil Rosse. 


family paid close attention to the narrative, and now 
and then interpolated an explanatory remark or an 
ejaculation. 

When Lord Glenham had been put in full posses- 
sion of all the facts in the case, as known to Mr. 
MacDougal, up to the hour of Grafton’s appearance 
at the MacDougal farm, the Highlander paused to 
take breath. The earl seized the opportunity to 
repeat his inquiries for Miss Rosse and his kinsman. 

“ I am coomin’ to that,” said MacDougal. “ This 
mornin’, when we were a moornin’ the death of 
the puir young lady an’ the foreign woman, con- 
siderin’ the mysterious dispensations o’ Providence, 
Mr. Grafton rode up an’ asked for Miss Rosse. An 
while we were e’en telling him that she was dead, 
the young lady hersel’, wi’ her auld servant, cam’ 
oot o’ the sma’ hay-barn, alive an’ well, but pale an’ 
staggering-lik’, by reason o’ terror an’ cauld. Mr. 
Grafton flew till the young lady, an’ there was a 
joyfu’ scene.” 

“ Ay, there was,” said Mrs. MacDougal, wiping 
her eyes. I’ her sorrow an’ distress the puir young 
lady thought only o’ this Mr. Grafton, an’ the auld 
woman wrote to him, telling me that he was the 
only frien’ o’ her young mistress. He cam’ wi’ a’ 
speed, and a more woe-struck mon I never see than 
was he when he heard that Miss Rosse was dead. 
But when he saw the bonnie lassie coomin’ till him, 
he lookit lik’ ane whilk sees a ghaist. He turnit 
white an’ gaspin’. An’ then he ran till her, and 
wad hae taken her i’ his arms, but for her modesty. 
He’s a rare luver, is Mr. Grafton.” 


A Second Disappearance, 


307 


“ A lover !’' ejaculated the earl. 

“ Ay, he luved her. I doot nay it will be a match 
soon,'' said Mrs. MacDougal, with an air of worldly 

wisdom. He worships the vera ground she steps 
»> 

on — 

“ Whilk is a very sinfu' thing to do," interrupted 
MacDougal, with an air of severity. ‘‘ Nay doot he 
luves her well. She is a bonnie lassie, an' will mak' 
a guid wife, and I hae nae doot they will be 
happy." 

Lord Glenham smiled. 

“There must be some mistake," he said. “I 
know Mr. Grafton thoroughly, and I am sure that 
his love for Miss Rosse is only a brother's affection. 
But where are they now ? I desire to see them at 
once." 

“ That is nae possible," said MacDougal. “ Mr. 
Grafton tuk her awa' this mornin' withi' an hour 
after he found her." 

“ Took her away !" cried the earl, amazed. “ I 
did not meet them I" 

“ They went in a po'-shay toward Inverness. It 
is strange 3’’edid nae meet them, sin' ye cam' the 
same gait. It maun be that they wad had stoppit 
at some farm hoose or inn. The lassie was weak 
an* tired. She wad nae hae been able to ride the 
day to toon." 

“ I am sorry to have missed them on the way," 
said Lord Glenham, in a tone of chagrin. “ I am so 
impatient to see them that I am tempted to procure 
a fresh horse and turn back to-night." 

“It wad be better to wait till the mornin', my laird," 


3o8 


Cecil Rosse. 


said Angus MacLean. ‘‘ The lassie will nae reach 
Inverness till the morrow noon, an* she wad rest 
there the morrow night. Ye look tired yersel*. We 
hae room an’ till spare. Stay wi’ us the night, an’ 
gang on your wa’ i’ the mornin’. ” 

The others joined their entreaties to those of Mac 
Lean, and the earl, being tired after his day’s jour- 
ney,^ allowed himself to be persuaded to remain. 

Mrs. MacLean placed her hospitable meal upon 
the board and pressed the visitor to partake of it. 
He complied, and while he ate his supper Mac- 
Dougal discoursed concerning his late visitors at 
considerable length. After supper, the earl 
resumed his seat by the hearth, while a room in the 
already crowded house was prepared for his occu- 
pancy. 

Ye’ll fin’ yer frien’sat Inverness, my laird,” said 
MacDougal, reflectively. ‘‘ The lassie will travel 
slow an’ easy, an’ Mr. Grafton will tak’ guild care o’ 
her. Your harse v/ill be ready to travel i’ the 
mornin.* Sandy, lad,” and he turned to one of his 
sons, ye can rub down the beastie an’ gie him 
his food. He wad nay be warm at this time.” 

Sandy departed on his errand. 

Mrs. MacLean presently announced that ‘‘ the 
prophet’s chamber” was ready for occupancy, and, 
as the hour was late. Lord Glenham arose, express- 
ing his wish to retire. 

Mr. MacLean, candle in hand, guided him up 
stairs to a large room with sloping roof and small 
quaint windows, and furnished in a primitive style. 
The bare floor was dotted with a few home-made 


A Seco7id Disappearance. 


309 


rugs. The high-post bedstead was half concealed by 
flowing dimity curtains. The room was brightened 
and warmed by a blazing wood fire on the hearth, and 
a chair had been drawn up in the full glow and heat. 

MacLean lingered to answer a few further inquir- 
ies of his guest concerning Miss Rosse, and then 
descended the stairs to the kitchen. 

The earl sat down by the fire and gave himself up 
to thought. 

He turned over in his mind the story he had 
heard. The revelation of Lady Trevor’s wickedness 
filled him with amazement. She had conspired 
with Mr. Pulford to destroy the life of Cecil Rosse, 
but what motive had impelled her to such hideous 
crime ? He remembered her unwomanly declara- 
tion of love for himself, and his fair face burned. 
Had that love — had an insane jealousy — prompted 
her to destroy the girl he loved ? Yet what other 
motive could she have possessed ? 

Her bethrothal to Mr. Pulford, which had seemed 
so mysterious, could be explained by the theory 
that in no other way could she secure his silence. 
That she loved Pulford was an idea too absurd for 
consideration. Fear, and fear alone, could have 
prompted the handsome, ambitious, wealthy widow 
to marry a man she did not love, who was far 
beneath her in social rank and station, and who was 
considered by others as a sort of upper menial in 
her service, despite the fact that he was by birth 
and position a gentleman. 

And why should she fear Pulford to such an extent. 


310 


Cecil Rosse. 


but that he had been the instrument of her wicked 
will in this affair ? 

“ It seems incredible/’ the earl said to himself, 
with a shudder, “ but I cannot doubt that Lady 
Trevor has conspired with Pul ford to kill Miss 
Rosse ! What has Cecil not suffered ? My poor 
darling ! When we sought everywhere for her, she 
was hidden in an old house on the northern Scottish 
coast, in the custody of three bloodthirsty wretches 
who sought her life ! I shall find her at Inverness, 
and I shall take her directly to my mother ! With 
all her avowed hatred for Miss Rosse, my mother 
could never resist Cecil’s beauty and sweetness. 
She could never deem her an adventuress when 
once she had met the gaze of Cecil’s lovely eyes ! 
Her heart would go out to Cecil at first sight. I 
know that Cecil loves me,” and his grave face grew 
strangely tender. I know that the passionate love 
I have for her must have awakened a response in 
her breast. I shall beg her to marry me immedi- 
ately. I will shelter and protect her from her 
enemies and now his looks grew stern. Any 
arrow aimed at her hereafter must find its way to 
my breast — not to hers !” 

He remembered the declaration of the Mac- 
Dougals that Crafton was Cecil’s lover, and he 
smiled again. He knew, by lover’s intuition, that 
Cecil’s heart was his, and he believed that his kins- 
man was acting in the matter as a friend. 

He was too excited to sleep. For hours he sat by 
his fire until the great logs dwindled to a quarter 
their original size, brooding with a lover’s idolatry 


A Second Disappearance. 3 1 1 


upon the beauty and perfections of Cecil. He was 
restless and anxious — he seemed so near to her in 
this house in which she had been upon the morning 
of that very day, and yet so far from her. 

“ I feel strangely troubled in spite of my great 
joy/' he said to himself, uneasily. Yet I know 
that Crafton will take good care of her, and that I 
shall find her at Inverness. I wonder that Gretchen 
did not write to me, instead of writing to Crafton. 
I shall know the reason to-morrow.” 

It was long past midnight when he flung himself 
wearily upon the bed. He slept little during the 
hours that followed, and arose at daybreak, with a 
strange depression resting heavily, like a pall, upon 
his spirits. 

He paced his floor until he heard sounds below 
attesting that the household was astir. Then he 
descended to the kitchen. He found that break- 
fast was in course of preparation and nearly ready. 
He went out to look after his horse, and found him 
in good condition and excellent spirits, well able to 
perform the return journey to Inverness. 

Breakfast was served. After the meal, the earl 
made his adieux, expressed his thanks for the hospi- 
tality he had received, and made MacDougal and 
MacLean each a handsome present in money. He 
then mounted his horse, amid the hearty good 
wishes, loudly expressed, of the entire household 
and its guests, and departed on the road to Inver- 
ness. 

He rode briskly, and a little after noon reached 
the half-way inn before which he had paused on 


312 


Cecil Kosse. 


the previous day to water his horse, and from the 
window of which Crafton had seen him. 

Here he made a halt for dinner. And here he 
learned upon inquiry that Crafton and Miss Rosse, 
with her servant, had taken refreshment on the pre- 
vious day, and that they had been at the inn when 
he had passed on his way to Loch Low. He learned, 
also, that the objects of his pursuit had continued 
their journey to Inverness with but brief delay. 

He pushed on, after an hour's rest, with an 
increasing uneasiness and sense of foreboding. 

He arrived at Inverness, and rode into the court- 
yard of the old-fashioned inn at which Crafton had 
stopped, just before nightfall. 

In response to his eager inquiries, he learned that 
Miss Rosse, with her servant, and Mr. Crafton, had 
set out by train on the morning of that day on their 
way to London, by way of Edinburgh. 

He hastened to the railway station and secured 
his own passage to London by the night-mail train. 
We need not dwell upon the incidents of that long 
and tedious return journey. 

It is enough to say that he made it without halt, 
and arrived in London in due course of time, hag- 
gard and worn, and nearly exhausted. • 

Procuring a cab, he drove directly to Crafton’s 
chambers. To his amazement, he was informed by 
the janitor of the building that his kinsman had 
not returned from Scotland. 

He hastened to Queen's Crescent, Bayswater. 
Mrs. Thomas, the worthy landlady, received with 
tears of joy the glad news that Miss Rosse was alive 


A Second Disappearance, 


313 


and found, but declared that she had not seen nor 
heard from her. 

Only one explanation of Cecil’s second disappear- 
ance occurred to the earl. 

Remembering what the MacDougals had said con- 
cerning her state of health, he could only conclude 
that Cecil had been taken ill upon the route and 
that she had been removed to suitable quarters, 
where Gretchen and Crafton were in attendance 
upon her. 

He determined to retrace his steps at once. 

“ I shall find them at Perth or at Edinburgh,” 
he thought. “ It seems as if there were some 
fatality in all this — as if some new obstacle or peril 
had risen between us !” 

He remembered, even in his anxiety, the deep and 
singular interest which the old Marquis of St. 
Leonards had taken in Miss Rosse, and was tempted 
to hasten and tell him of his discovery of Cecil, but 
he restrained himself. 

“ I will tell no one until I can bring her safe to 
London,” he thought. “ I will spare the marquis 
my anxieties.” 

He drove to his house in Park Lane, and saw his 
mother, but not even to her did he unfold the object 
of his hurried journeys. In the afternoon, he went 
again to Craf ton’s chambers, but his kinsman had 
not been heard from. Accordingly, he took the 
night mail for Scotland. 

He arrived again at Edinburgh in due course of 
time. A liberal fee to the guards and station- 
master procured for him the information that a gen- 


3H 


Cecil Rosse, 


tleman answering the description he gave of Graf- 
ton — the same gentleman whom he had followed 
northwards some days before — had alighted from 
the train at Edinburgh two nights since, with a 
young lady and her maid in his charge. They had 
not since been seen at the station. 

They are here, then/' the earl thought, his heart 
giving a great leap. ‘‘I shall find them at some 
hotel, or, if Cecil is really ill, then in private lodg- 
ings ! The task before me is by no means easy, but 
with the experience I have had in detective work, I 
shall not fail to discover them. They are here — now 
to search for them !" 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Grafton’s success. 

Miss Rosse had started from Inverness for Lon- 
don with Gretchen and Mr. Crafton, as Lord Glen- 
ham had been informed. And she had alighted 
from the train at Edinburgh, as the earl had dis- 
covered for himself, after his fruitless journey to 
London. 

What had then become of her, we will proceed to 
explain. 

Weak from her long imprisonment in the old 
house at Black Rock, with her subsequent wander- 
ings among the grim fastnesses and gloomy passes 
of the wild northern Highlands, and from the terrors 
and exposures of that last night at Loch Low, she 
found herself unable to pursue her journey to Lon- 
don without a halt somewhere for rest. 

It was upon a premonition of this fact that Craf- 
ton had builded his villainous scheme of getting her 
into his power. Long before they reached Edin- 
burgh, the villain noticed, with secret exultation, 
that the pale young face was growing whiter with 
every mile of travel, that the thin, deeply-fringed 

[31 5I 




3i6 


Cecil Rosse. 


eyelids drooped more and more wearily above the 
sweet, sorrowful eyes, and that the sad and tender 
mouth was acquiring a piteous droop indicative of 
utter weariness and physical exhaustion. 

Apparently forgetting his proposal of marriage 
to her, and his rejection, he devoted himself to her 
comfort with an assiduity and gentleness that 
touched Cecil to the heart, and won for him the grate- 
ful affection of old Gretchen. He had procured at 
Inverness a Highland plaid and a railway rug, and 
these he wrapped about the girl in a manner to 
affort a support for her head, as well as to shield her 
from cold. He brought her tea and other light 
refreshments from the stations where such things 
were sold ; he was gentle, attentive, yet unobtrusive, 
and Cecil gave him, now and then, a grateful look ; 
but he was sufficiently wise not to mistake and over- 
rate the meaning of it. 

It was Gretchen who, in her anxiety for her young 
mistress, suggested a halt. 

Miss Cecil won’t be able to travel night and day 
to London, sir, without stopping,” she said. Would 
it greatly inconvenience you, Mr. Crafton, to stop 
over night somewhere ?” 

Not at all,” answered Crafton, politely. I am 
quite at Miss Rosse’s service. I think it would be 
well for her to stop over night at Edinburgh. I 
should have suggested her doing so, if you had not.” 

When they reached Edinburgh, Cecil was scarcely 
able to alight from the coach. Crafton helped her 
out upon the platform and into a cab, 'and gave the 
order ; 


Craftoii s Site cess. 


317 


To McGregor’s Royal Hotel.” 

The little party were transported thither, and were 
soon after lodged in comfortable rooms, a pleasant 
private sitting-room, with bedrooms adjoining, being 
placed at Cecil’s disposal for herself and maid. 

Grafton’s room was upon an upper floor, and at 
some distance from those allotted to Miss Rosse. 

Dinner was served to the party in Cecil’s sitting- 
room, and almost immediately thereafter Cecil 
retired for the night, Gretchen accompanying her. 

Thus left to himself, with an entire evening 
before him, Crafton descended to the office and 
examined attentively a city directory, from which 
he copied an address. He put the scrap of paper 
in his note-book, and went forth into the streets, 
alone and on foot. 

He returned at a late hour, whistling softly to 
himself as he ascended to his rooms, and having the 
air of one who has achieved a great and longed-for 
success. 

“ It is just as I foresaw and planned from the 
beginning,” he mused, delightedly. As soon as I 
received Gretchen ’s letter, and knew that Miss Rosse 
was in Scotland, I thought of that old beldame. 
Miser that she is, I have bought her, body and soul, 
for the work I have in hand. She will render me 
the service I require, exactly as I supposed she would. 
Singularly enough. Lord Glenham does not know 
even of her existence. I was never so frank with 
him as he was with me,” and he smiled grimly. 
“ He’ll go on to London, inquire after me, and fail- 
ing to find me, he’ll turn back and look for me here. 


3i8 


Cecil Rosse. 


So far my tracks are plainly apparent. He'll trace 
us to this house, but we shall leave to-morrow ; and 
I defy him, and all the police of this town, to find 
Miss Rosse after to-morrow. She'll be lost to him 
and all pursuers — as safely hidden as if she were in 
her grave." 

Cecil slept profoundly that night, without a sus- 
picion of the new trial in store for her. She awak- 
ened at a late hour of the following morning, attired 
herself with care, making her shabby garments look 
as well as possible, and entered the sitting-room. 

Gretchen rang the bell for breakfast. 

Before it was served, Crafton made his appear- 
ance. 

There was an assumed cloud upon his brow 
which Cecil was quick to detect. She shook hands 
with him, exchanging greetings, and resumed her 
seat. Fearing that his gloom might be consequent 
upon her rejection of him, she forbore to question 
him. 

‘‘I fell quite well this morning," she remarked, in 
answer to his inquiry, and am able to resume our 
journey." 

“We will speak of that after breakfast," returned 
Crafton, keepingup his affectation of anxiety. “ And 
here it comes. Will you permit me to share the 
meal with you. Miss Rosse, or will you banish me to 
the coffee room 

“ Stay with us," said Cecil. “ I ordered breakfast, 
expecting you to share it with us." 

The meal was served. After the things had been 
removed, Crafton assumed a deeper gloom of aspect. 


Craftoii s Success. 


319 . 


Cecil, with quickening fears, begged to know what 
had happened. 

“ Be brave and calm, my dear Miss Cecil,'" said 
the hypocrite. I will tell you all. We have been 
followed — 

“ Followed T 

“ From Inverness by Mr. Pulford !" declared 
Crafton, with an appearance of speaking truth. He 
was there when we left. He has pursued us, and 
the man Jarvis is with him !” 

‘‘Impossible! cried Gretchen. “Jarvis went 
back to Black Rock.” 

“ He started for Black Rock, but he must have 
changed his purpose and hurried to Inverness for 
another interview with his employer. At any rate, 
they are here in Edinburgh. I have been to the 
station this morning, and both men were there 
waiting for your appearance.” 

“:But they thought that we were dead.” 

“Jarvis learned the truth when he passed Loch 
Low after our departure yesterday morning.” 

“ But you can protect us, Mr. Crafton ?” said Cecil, 
eagerly. “ They will never dare harm us in a town 
like this !” 

“You don't know the world yet. Miss Cecil,” 
said Crafton. “ You have no idea of the cunning of 
Pulford. He has been to the police-officer, declared 
you insane, and procured a warrant for your arrest, 
and mine also. He has declared also that he is 
your lawful guardian. He has a policeman with 
him now waiting for your appearance. Must I tell 
the whole truth ? Through his cunningly-devised 


320 


Cecil Rosse. 


stories, he has secured the support of the law and 
the authorities. If we go to the station, we run 
straight into the net spread for us !” 

‘‘ Then what are we to do ?*’ 

‘‘ If we stay here, they will find you. I heard 
Pulford say to the policeman that, if you did not 
appear before the departure of the mail-train, they 
must visit the hotels.” 

Crafton told this falsehood with such apparent 
reluctance and such seeming sincerity that Cecil and 
Gretchen had no suspicion of his treachery. The 
young lady sat down, white and scared. Gretchen 
wrung her hands. Both were so ignorant of Eng- 
lish law, and both had had such hard experience of 
English people during the past few months, that 
the tale seemed to them by no means improbable. 

“ We are lost !” groaned Gretchen. 

‘‘ No, no,” said Miss Rosse. We will not wait 
here to be seized by our enemies. Tell us what to 
do, Mr. Crafton. We are so ignorant of the country. 
What can we do T 

I should advise our seeking private lodgings in 
some quiet, respectable house,” said Crafton, reflect- 
ively. If we could find some motherly old land- 
lady like Mrs. Thomas, who would keep us a few 
days until your enemies would be thrown off the 
scent, you would be quite safe !” 

Can you find us such lodgings ?” 

“ There is an old lady, a very distant relation of 
my own, who might receive you as her guest for a 
few days,” continued Crafton. Let me take yon 
to her. She lives out of town, in a very lonely and 



OLD SALLY SEIZED UPON mu.—See Page 345 . 
















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Crafton s Success, 


321 


secluded house, and, being of a very reserved dis- 
position, has few visitors. No one would find you 
in her house. No one would dream of looking for 
you there.'* 

‘‘ You are very kind. Let us go now," said Cecil, 
thoroughly alarmed. I dare not remain here 
another hour." 

Then we will go. But we must not take a cab, 
or leave any clew by which we can be traced. Put 
on your vails. You must take my arm, Cecil, and 
we will walk out and mingle with the crowds in 
the street. I have settled the bill, and am ready to 
go. We need not delay an instant, unless you 
wish !" 

Cecil needed no second hint. She put on her hat 
and wrappings, Gretchen followed her example, and 
the three descended to the private door and passed 
out into the street. 

After walking a few blocks, Crafton unfolded the 
plaid he carried and wrapped it round the girl’s 
slender figure, which it completely enveloped, serv- 
ing as a disguise. 

A similar plaid, and a new bonnet, which Crafton 
paid for, transformed Gretchen into a seeming 
Scotchwoman of the lower class. 

Satisfied with the changes these articles made in 
the appearance of his companions, Crafton hailed a 
passing cab, and the party entered it. He gave the 
address to the cabman in a low tone, and the 
vehicle moved off briskly over the pavements. 

They descended steep and narrow streets, Cecil 
and Gretchen shrinking back in order to avoid 


322 


Cecil Rosse, 


observation, and passed into the outskirts of the 
town. 

“ We are almost there,'’ said Crafton, with a quick 
gleam in his black eyes. ‘‘ Almost there. Miss 
Cecil. And once there — once in the walls of my 
old kinswoman's house, I defy any pursuer to find 
you." 

The cab entered a green lane shut in by high 
hedges. Here Crafton stopped the vehicle, and 
assisted his companions to alight. They waited 
until the cab had disappeared upon its return to 
town, and Crafton led them a little distance, and 
finally stopped before a small gate cut in a high 
brick wall. 

Here we are," he said exultantly ; “ and you are 
safe, Miss Cecil. Come in." 

He opened the small door, and Cecil and Gretchen 
passed through. He followed them. Had they but 
seen the sinister exultation on his face at that 
moment, they would have turned and fled from him 
as from a demon. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE HEMLOCKS. 

Upon passing through the little gate or door in 
the high brick wall, as we have described, Miss 
Rosse found herself in an old, neglected garden, 
dark, dank and overgrown — a very wilderness of 
weeds and tangled shrubbery, overhung and per- 
petually shadowed by thick -growing evergreen 
trees. 

The place was chill, damp and unwholesome. A 
narrow foot-path led among the trees and shrubs 
from the little door to the house, which, from that 
point, was not perceptible. 

The young girl halted until Gretchen and Crafton 
had also entered the garden, and the latter had 
secured the door by heavy bolts upon its inner 
side. 

Although so near the town, we are completely 
out of the world, you see. Miss Cecil,'’ said Crafton, 
looking around him with a satisfied glance. 

The girl shivered. 

Who lives here ?” asked Gretchen, abruptly. 

An old lady, a very distant cousin of my father,” 

[323] 



324 


Cecil Rosse. 


replied Crafton. “ She is a widow, and her name is 
Mrs. Malson. Being childless also, and alone in the 
world, she has grown very peculiar in her ways, but 
she is good at heart and will befriend you, Miss 

Ceciir 

“ Does she live here alone ?’* asked Cecil. 

“ Alone, except that she has one woman servant, 
a crabbed old creature entirely devoted to her, shar- 
ing her peculiarities to a great degree. Old Sally 
is very like her mistress. There is no man-servant, 
which accounts for the condition of the grounds. 
But, come ; let me take you to the house.** 

He offered her his arm. Cecil gently declined his 
support, and motioned him to precede her. He led 
the way, therefore, along the gloomy path, now and 
then brushing his hat against obtrusive branches of 
trees. A turn brought them in view of the house — 
a dingy brick dwelling, two stories in height, and 
nearly covered on three sides with ivy vines. 

As they approached a side door they could see that 
the house fronted upon a street much wider than 
the lane at the rear, and that it was separated from 
this street by a high brick wall, surmounted, like 
the rear wall, with broken glass laid in cement. 
The front yard was filled with thick-growing ever- 
green trees of considerable size, which nearly or 
quite concealed the house from the gaze of passers. 

The dwelling had an appearance of being unin- 
habited. The grass around it was scant, the soil 
showing in many places. A broken piece of statu- 
ary, a ruined fountain, and other evidences of 
neglect, added to the general aspect of desolation. 


The Hemlocks. 


325 


The place is called ‘ The Hemlocks/ ” said Graf- 
ton. “ It deserves the name, as you see.*' 

He ascended the steps and opened the door over- 
looking the side-yard. He seemed quite at home, as 
both Cecil and Gretchen noticed. He did not deem 
it necessary to explain to them that he had visited 
the house on the previous evening, and had a 
lengthy interview with his relative and her servant, 
securing, by liberal expenditure, their cooperation 
in his affairs. He did not deem it necessary either 
to state that Miss Rosse was expected to arrive at 
The Hemlocks that morning, and that preparations 
had been made for her reception, and that the gar- 
den door had been left unlocked purposely to afford 
them speedy ingress. 

He entered a small hall or passage, with doors 
opening from either side. The hall was at right 
angles with the main hall, and joined it. Grafton 
opened a door at his right hand, and ushered Cecil 
and her attendant into a sitting-room. 

“ If you will wait here. Miss Cecil," he exclaimed, 
I will find Mrs. Malson and acquaint her with 
your presence, and secure her friendship and pro- 
tection for you. Excuse me for a few moments. I 
will return as soon as possible." 

He bowed and retired, closing the door behind 
him. 

Cecil and Gretchen looked at each other, half in 
misgiving, and then glanced about the room. 

It was small, with but one window. The carpet 
was threadbare, the furniture decrepit, the walls 
mouldy and damp, the old-fashioned paper hanging 


326 


Cecil Rosse. 


in loose strips from it. The ceiling was discolored. 
The atmosphere of this apartment had the chill of 
a tomb. There was no fire on the blackened hearth, 
no ornament on shelves or tables, no superfluity 
anywhere. The barest and dreariest povert}’ 
reigned supreme. 

Cecil drew her plaid closer. Even Gretchen, 
strong as she was, felt the insidious damp and chill 
of the place penetrate to her very bones. 

They waited patiently for some minutes. Then a 
heavy tread was heard in the passage, the door 
opened, and a woman entered the room. 

She was Sally, the housekeeper and general ser- 
vant of the establishment. 

She was a large, gaunt Scotswoman, a very gren- 
adier in petticoats, with a soldierly tread and mar- 
tial aspect. She had bright red hair, a pair of keen 
gray eyes, high cheek-bones, and an extremely long 
visage, and her heavy upper lip was adorned by an 
unmistakable mustache. 

She looked at Cecil sharply. The girl's pallor, 
delicacy of appearance, and slight figure, evidently 
inspired her with contempt. She turned her gaze 
upon Gretchen, and the sturdy frame of the Ger- 
man peasant woman appeared to impress her as 
more worthy of respect. Her glance returned to 
Cecil. 

My mistress will see you," she said, in a gruff, 
heavy voice, that startled her hearers. I will con- 
duct you to her !" 

The visitors arose and followed her guidance. 

She led them to the main hall of the dwelling, 


T he Hemlocks, 3 2 jr 


and to a room opening off it. In the best days of 
the old house, when the late Mr. Malson, who had 
been a convivial person, had dispensed its hospital- 
ities with a lavish hand, this apartment had been 
the morning-room. Now, the drawing-room being 
shut up and altogether unused, this chamber 
was general parlor, sitting-room and library, all in 
one. 

It was large and well furnished, with relics of 
prosperous days. The floor was covered with a 
threadbare Brussels carpet. The whitewashed walls 
were hung with old family portraits. A book-case 
filled with books, a writing-table, work-table, and a 
dozen chairs, all of solid mahogany, and all made in 
the fashion of fifty years ago, made up the principle 
articles of furniture. The windows were curtained 
with faded red damask, suspended by rings from 
brass rods. 

A meagre fire burned in the grate. Before it, in 
a straight-backed chair, sat an old woman, the mis- 
tress of the house. 

As Crafton had declared, she was Mrs. Malson, a 
very distant relative of his family. 

She was past eighty years of age, toothless, with 
a yellow face mapped with a thousand wrinkles, a 
deeply-furrowed forehead, and a scanty amount of 
hair of a peculiar yellow white. In vivid contrast 
to her apparent age, were her eyes, which were 
small, hard and black, like those of Crafton, but 
her eyes were brighter than his, sharp in their 
glances, penetrating, and vivid as burning coals. 

She was dressed in a frayed and worn black satin 


328 


Cecil Rosse, 


gown of ancient style, and a frilled cap, that flared 
away from her face. 

Her eyes snapped at sight of Cecil, and she arose 
with an alacrity that surprised the new-comers, 
and took a step forward, displaying a shrunken 
flgure which was yet wiry and strong, and full of 
vitality. 

“ So this is the young lady !” she exclaimed, in a 
cracked voice. “ You are welcome, my dear, very 
welcome. Eh ? What did you say ? Speak a little 
louder. You can stay here as long as you like. 
Won't you sit down ?" 

Cecil murmured a response and took her seat. 
Gretchen dropped into a chair near the door. 

“ There's a room up stairs all ready to be occu- 
pied," said Sally. “ It's curious," and she smiled 
grimly, ‘‘but there's a fire in it ! It's all aired and 
warmed, and at any time the young lady wishes to 
go up. I’ll show her the way." 

“ Let her be for the present, Sally," croaked the 
old lady. “ Let her be. I like to look at a young 
face now and then. I was pretty myself once, Miss 
Rosse. I was indeed.” 

It was plain that she told the truth. 

That withered, wrinkled old visage, which wore a 
strange look of cunning in every feature, which 
betrayed greed and avarice as her predominant 
characteristics, had been beautiful once, and in 
spite of the repulsiveness of her expression, some 
faint vestige or reminder of that beauty still lin- 
gered, as the perfume clings faintly to the rose 
when the flower is withered and spoiled. 


The Hemlocks, 


329 


Crafton accomplished the conventional form of 
introduction between his aged kinswoman and Miss 
Rosse. Then, as Mrs. Malson showed considerable 
vivacity and inclination to talk, he settled himself 
comfortably in a tall-backed chair, and regarded 
both quietly. 

This was his second visit to The Hemlocks. Until 
the previous evening he had never seen his elderly 
relative, but during his boyhood he had heard much 
of her, had learned her history, and her place of 
residence. Upon presenting himself to her upon 
the previous evening, with the knowledge he pos- 
sessed of her character and peculiarities, he had had 
no difficulty in winning her consent to aid and abet 
his plans. 

In her younger days when she had been known 
as “the beautiful Mrs. Malson,” she had been a 
belle. Her husband had been rich, and The 
Hemlocks had been the seat of hospitality. The 
grounds had then been kept in exquisite order, the 
lawns were like emerald velvet, the trees were 
trimmed and not too thick, and gardeners kept 
flower-gardens and conservatories in bloom the 
year round. 

But some thirty years since, Mr. Malson had died. 

The larger portion of his estate went to his only 
son, who settled in England with selfish disregard 
of his mother. A marriage to an impoverished 
lady of rank cut him off completely from his 
mother, and put an end to all intercourse between 
them. 

Mrs. Malson inherited from her husband only a 


330 


Cecil Rosse. 


life-lease of The Hemlocks, and an income of four 
hundred pounds a year. 

Unable to maintain her former state, or to keep 
up her hospitalities, she dismissed her retinue of 
servants, closed the state apartments of her house, 
and developed a sudden miserliness of spirit, 
strongly in contrast with her former lavishness. 

Of her entire household, she retained only one 
servant, old Sally, whose devotion to herself she 
had proven. 

She suffered the grounds to run wild, since they 
did not actually belong to her. As her son never 
visited her, having given up his own family for that 
of his wife, no one interfered with her. Her miser- 
liness grew stronger year by year. She lived 
meagerly, hoarding her savings, and had many 
years since made a will, bequeathing her treasure at 
her death to her old servant. She had informed 
Sally of this measure, and so won the undying grat- 
itude and faithful service of the old woman. 

From the time of that confidence, the two women, 
mistress and maid, lived but with one interest and 
one object. They saved and hoarded in every 
imaginable and possible way. Old Sally sifted 
cinders and counted coals, and went to bed in the 
dark, and Mrs. Malson wore her old gowns to the 
last degree of shabbiness, and pinched her stomach, 
and denied herself all company ; and added pennies 
and shillings and pounds to her hoard, which the 
pair counted over together in the long evenings 
with greedy delight. 

Old Sally never longed for the time when those 


The Hemlocks, 


331 


savings should be hers. In her way, she loved her 
mistress, and she made the old lady the chief object 
of her existence. She became greedy and avari- 
cious also ; she repelled visitors so sternly that after 
one call at the garden-door of The Hemlocks, they 
were only too thankful to escape and never came 
again. 

It must not be supposed that Crafton had come 
to his kinswoman with full avowal of his villainy, or 
with a frank statement of his schemes. He had 
told her that he loved a young lady named Miss 
Rosse, that Miss Rosse desired to hide from an 
enem}^', and that he sought a secure asylum for 
her, for ' which he would pay liberally. He had 
dropped a hint, however, which he expected to 
spring up like seed dropped upon fertile soil and to 
bear fruit in good time, to the effect that he would 
gladly pay one hundred pounds to any one who 
would assist him to induce or constrain Miss Rosse 
to become his wife. 

That hint had lingered in Mrs. Malson’s mind ever 
since, and she had discussed it at great length with 
her old servant. 

‘‘ The boy has money and a home,'’ she had finally ' 
declared, “ and the girl has not. She is a fool if she 
refuses to marry him. How can people live without 
money ? I wouldn’t do a dishonorable thing for the 
world, Sally — you know me well enough for that. 

I am a gentlewoman and I trust I have a proper 
sense of honor, but I can see no harm in persuading 
this young lady for her own good.” 

‘^Orin constraining her either,” said the bolder 


332 


Cecil Rosse. 


Sally. A young thing like that don’t know what’s 
good for her, and ought to be thankful to older and 
wiser persons for compelling of her. That’s what I 
think. And a hundred pounds is a lot o’ money !” 
she added, reflectively. 

‘‘ A large sum — a very large sum !” sighed the old 
lady. And somehow, Sally, with all I’ve saved, 
I’ve got an idea I shall come to want yet. I ought 
to have that hundred pounds. I might starve, for 
all my son cares since his marriage. I ought 'to 
look out for myself. And it is not doing wrong to 
secure to this foolish girl a handsome husband, a 
good home, and plenty of money. A little con- 
straint, such as parents often use, would be quite 
proper in so good a cause !” 

“ Certainly, mum. And the young lady’ll live to 
thank you for it,” declared Sally, who had no sense 
of honor, and whose bolder spirit generally contrived 
to lead that of her mistress. Mr. Crafton, your 
nevvy, ma’am, wouldn’t advise you to a wrong 
thing. I’d carry out his wishes.” 

But Mrs. Malson had not announced her decision 
when Miss Rosse arrived. 

She regarded the young girl with a sort of pitying 
tenderness. 

“ Sit nearer the fire. Miss Rosse,” she urged. It’s 
chilly. It’s a frightful expense to live in this 
climate. If I were not so old, I should not use 
coals in May and she sighed heavily. “ I hope 
you will like The Hemlocks. At any rate you’ll 
be safe here. I never see company !” 

‘‘ I am sure I shall find it a safe refuge,” said 


The Hemlocks, 


333 


Cecil. The house seems hidden away out of sight 
among the trees.” 

Ah, they do grow so fast ! But there’s no use 
in trimming them, or doing anything to the place. 
It is only mine for life. It was a gay house once, 
in the old days, but it has seen its best, as I have 
seen mine.” 

Cecil was interested in the old lady, and her stay 
at The Hemlocks promised to be not devoid of 
pleasure. She remained in the parlor for half an 
hour, and when old Sally again offered to show her 
to her room she accepted the offer and arose. 

Did you bring your luggage ?” asked Mrs. 
Malson. 

Cecil replied that she had no luggage. 

“ But you will want a change of clothes.” 

I have money,” said the girl. If you will 
kindly allow your servant to purchase what is 
needed for Gretchen and myself, I shall be indebted 
to you.” 

“ Oh, I’ll do it !” said old Sally. It won’t do for 
you to be seen outside these grounds.” 

The housekeeper conducted the guests up-stairs 
to a pleasant chamber with bedrooms adjoining. 
The furniture was old and quaint, the windows were 
thickly curtained, and a warm, bright, sea-coal fire 
glowed in the grate. Crafton had insisted on 
fires to warm the long-unused rooms, and had left 
money to pay for the necessary fuel. No damp or 
chill lingered about the walls, as old Gretchen 
observed with inward thanksgiving. 

Miss Rosse gave her commission to Sally, with 


334 


Cecil Rosse. 


money for its execution, and the housekeeper with- 
drew. 

What a strange house this is said Gretchen. 

And what a strange old lady ! I think she is not 
quite what she was in her younger days, Miss Cecil. 
Time does tell upon people 

She is very kind to receive us !” said Cecil. I 
do not like to be so deeply indebted to Mr. Crafton. 
He puts me continually under fresh obligations to 
him, and I feel guilty of base ingratitude because I 
cannot marry him. There never was a gentleman 
more noble, kind, or unselfish !” 

‘‘If you only could and would marry him, dear 
Miss Cecil,'* cried faithful old Gretchen, “ I should 
be the happiest woman alive. If we go back to. 
London, that Mr. Pulford will find you there. You 
will never be safe again — never — except in a home 
of your own, with a husband to protect you !” 

“ Hush, Gretchen," said Cecil, sorrowfully. “ I 
shall never marry. Mr. Crafton knows this, I think, 
and his kindness is not given in a hope of pay- 
ment." 

She sat down before the fire and gave herself up 
to thought. 

Meanwhile, in the lower room, the old lady had 
turned to Crafton, upon Cecil's withdrawal, and 
said, eagerly : 

“ She’s a pretty girl, Maldred, a bonnie lassie. I 
don’t wonder you love her. What a pity that she’s 
so poor !" 

“ She is rich in youth and beauty, madam." 

“No doubt — no doubt. I’ll keep her as long as 


The Hemlocks, 


335 


you wish on the terms we arranged last night. You 
can stay here, if you wish, also. Sally has prepared 
a room for you. If you use your opportunities well, 
you can win the girl easily.'’ 

And if she refuses to marry me ?” said Crafton, 
bending forward and looking full into the face of his 
aged kinswoman. I have risked my life in rescu- 
ing her from her enemies. I have spent months in 
searching for her. She ought to marry me out of 
gratitude, if for no other reason. But suppose, in 
spite of all I can do or say, she chooses to play the 
coquette — what then ?” 

A sudden agitation convulsed the sharp features 
of the old lady. 

I’m an old woman,” she said, tremulously. “ My 
mind isn’t as clear as it used to be. I can’t quite 
judge what is right. The girl is beautiful. I have 
taken a great fancy to her. If I only thought the 
marriage was really the best thing for her — if I only 
knew it would be quite right to coerce her into it — I 
could easily tell what to do. You are younger than 
I — you are a young man with a clear head and a 
good heart, I know — and you love her. Tell me, 
Maldred, would it be right, absolutely right, for me 
to endeavor to coerce her into this marriage with 
you ?” 

‘‘ Quite right, madam.” 

Upon your honor, sir ?” 

Upon my honor as a gentleman.” 

The old lady drew a long breath of relief. 

“ And you would be very good to her ?” she ques- 
tioned, 


336 


Cecil Rosse. 


I would cherish her as the apple of my eye. I 
would worship her !’* cried Crafton, solemnly, his 
swarthy face glowing. 

I don’t care for the hundred pounds in compari- 
son with this young girl’s happiness, although I’m 
poor, and, for all my son would care, I might starve. 
I’d like the money, but I won’t do wrong to obtain 
it. Once more, Maldred,” and she looked at him 
sharply, with eyes that seemed to pierce to his soul, 
you declare, before God, that if I help to constrain 
this young girl to marry you, I shall secure her hap- 
piness as well as yours ?” 

“I declare it, before God !” 

Then I promise. I will imprison her in her own 
chamber, if necessary, or feed her on bread and 
water until her spirit is broken !” cried Mrs. Mal- 
son. ‘‘ I will be harsh to her as any jailer — all for 
her own good ! She shall be your wife, Maldred, if 
we keep her shut up for years first ! You can rely 
upon me. She shall never leave this house until she 
goes forth leaning upon your arm as your bride !” 



CHAPTER XXX. 

REUNITED. 

Lord Glenham devoted himself to the renewed 
search for Miss Rosse with an ardent zeal that 
seemed determined to compel success. 

First of all, upon leaving the railway station he 
visited McGregor’s Royal Hotel. And there he 
found upon the register the names he sought — Mal- 
dred Craftqn, Miss Rosse and servant. 

Further inquiry elicited the fact that these persons 
had left the hotel on the previous day, and had not 
since reappeared. 

The earl hastened back to the station and made 
still more rigid investigations. He visited the other 
railway-stations. It was plain that those whom he 
sought had not departed from Edinburgh by train. 
He feed the station-masters, guards and porters liber- 
ally, and gave his address at the Ro5"al, and 
requested to be informed immediately upon the 
appearance of Crafton at the station. 

He then visited the other leading hotels of the 
town, including several private ones, and, of course, 
met with no success. He made a tour of boarding 

[ 337 ] 


338 


Cecil Rosse, 


and lodging houses, but nowhere could he find a 
trace of those whom he sought. They had disap- 
peared mysteriously, utterly and strangely, as Miss 
Rosse and Gretchen had disappeared in London sev- 
eral months before. 

In this dilemma, not knowing where next to look, 
he bethought himself of a friend — a Scotch lord who 
lived in Edinburgh. As he was also an acquaintance 
of Grafton, it was quite probable that Grafton had 
gone to him for advice in regard to lodgings. Act- 
ing upon this idea, he visited his friend — a cool- 
headed Scotchman, with his full share of national 
sagacity — and laid the case before him. The Scot 
listened attentively, made several inquiries, and 
formed certain conclusions quite at variance with 
those of Lord Glenham. 

I haven't seen anything of him," he said, and 
from your account I am quite sure that I shall not 
see him. It is my opinion that Grafton is after the 
young lady himself. Wait ! Don’t interrupt me. 
His conduct in visiting Zorlitz last autumn, unknown 
to you, his secrecy in regard to that letter from old 
Gretchen, a dozen little incidents you have mentioned, 
confirm my belief. Women are sharp-sighted crea- 
tures, quick to scent a love-affair, and not at all 
likely to be taken in in regard to one. The opinion 
of that Mrs. MacDougal that Grafton is Miss Rosse’s 
lover is likely to be the true one." 

“ I cannot listen to an opinion that reflects upon 
my friend," said the earl, coldly. ‘‘ I think he has 
taken Miss Rosse to some quiet lodging, where she 
can rest ^fter her fatigues and excitements," 


Reunited, 


339 


Perhaps,’' said the Scot, skeptically. “ But why 
didn’t he show you that old woman’s letter, if he is 
honest, Glenham ? He’s deep and treacherous, and 
you’ll discover the fact for yourself. He’s playing a 
deeper game than you’ve any idea of. I never had 
a very high opinion of his sense of honor anyhow. 
If I can help you in any way, command me.” 

The earl courteously declined the proffers of 
assistance, and went away to work out the problem 
by himself. 

Notwithstanding his faith in his kinsman, the 
words he had heard produced a deep impression 
upon him. He reviewed Grafton’s conduct in his 
own mind. He remembered Grafton’s secret return 
to the Black Forest in the preceding autumn. Trifles 
that had seemed at the time of their occurrence 
light as air, now recurred to him with surprising 
weight. He was annoyed at himself, but the doubt 
of Grafton had been skillfully planted in his soul, to 
rankle there, and not all the assurances of his 
treacherous kinsman could have rekindled or 
restored his former faith in him. 

He resolved to prosecute his inquiries alone, with- 
out the assistance even of his Scottish friend. 

The tavsk he had undertaken proved Herculean. 
Having no clew to work upon, nothing but failure 
could result from his efforts. 

Since sagacity and perseverance could not avail 
him, chance came to his assistance. 

Upon the evening of the second day of his search, 
he was walking in the Ganongate, grave and thought- 
ful, and deeply anxious, turning over in his mind new 


340 


Cecil Rosse, 


theories and plans of procedure. The hour was yet 
early. The stars were shining, the street-lamps 
burned brightly, the shop windows were illuminated 
and two slender opposing tides of pedestrians were 
moving to and fro. 

Suddenly the earl started. 

A little in advance of him, among the moving 
throng, he beheld a tall, thin figure, closely mufiled, 
strolling with evident aimlessness in the direction of 
Holyrood Palace. The figure, its carriage and gait, 
were too familiar to him not to be recognized upon 
the instant. It was that of Maldred Crafton. 

The earl made a quick, impulsive movement for- 
ward with the intention of overtaking and accost- 
ing his kinsman. Then his new doubts and dis- 
trust of Crafton obtruded themselves, arresting his 
movement. With a sudden cautiousness, he deter- 
mined to follow his treacherous friend, keeping 
himself unseen. He turned up his coat collar above 
his ears, drew his hat over his eyes, to guard against 
recognition should Crafton turn around, and settled 
his gait in accommodation to that of the villain. 

His precautions were well taken. Crafton looked 
around more than once to make sure that no one 
had remarked him or was following him, but in 
spite of all his astuteness, he failed to recognize or 
even to note his patient pursuer. 

Smoking a cigar leisurely, Crafton strolled on 
enjoying the fresh air and the sight of humankind. 

He had been shut up in the damp old house at 
The Hemlocks for three days, seeing no one but its 
inmates. He had kept up his fiction that Cecil was 


Reunited. 


341 


pursued, and the girl was only too grateful for the 
shelter afforded her. But Crafton had tired of the 
gloomy rooms, the dark house, the dark and tan- 
gled garden. He had tired of inaction. He had 
tired of his aged relative, who, avaricious and 
greedy as she was, was, in spite of her promise of 
co-operating with him, not quite the pliant instru- 
ment of his will he had expected her to be. 

The old lady had taken a violent fancy for her 
young guest. The girl’s exquisite beauty and sunny 
temperament had revived in her delightful memo- 
ries of her ownl ong-past youth. Then, too, Mrs. 
Malson was a gentlewoman by birth and breeding, 
and no love of gold could quite smother her sense of 
honor. Crafton began to think that he should need 
to find another asylum for his young charge. 

“ Miser as she is,” he said to himself, as he walked 
along, puffing at his cigar, ‘‘ the old woman has a 
conscience, and a terribly inconvenient one I am 
likely to find it. If there’s to be war — and it looks 
like war now — and Cecil utterly refuses to marry me, 
I shall have to find other lodgings for her. But 
where ? That’s the question. I might buy up the 
old woman Sally. I don’t believe her conscience is 
made of such rigid material as that of her mistress. 
The old housekeeper may suggest some place in 
which I can cage my prize and persecute her into 
acceptance of me. By Jove, since my discovery of 
that picture of Sir Albert Trevor in Gretchen’s 
hands, since love and greed unite to urge me on. 111 
stop at nothing — nothing — but I’ll force Cecil to 
become my wife ! But my old kinswoman is an 


342 


Cecil Rosse. 


arrant coward withal. I must change Cecil’s quar- 
ters to-morrow !” 

Wrapped in a sense of false security, Crafton con- 
tinued his walk to the palace. Then plunging into 
a street at right angles with the Canongate, he pur- 
sued his stroll, trusting to the deeper gloom of this 
narrower avenue, and not pausing again to look 
behind him. Turning corner after corner, he 
hurried into the suburbs of the town, and reached, 
at last, the quiet, green lane, with high banks and 
hedges, which ran at the foot of Mrs. Malson’s 
garden. 

And after him pressed Lord Glenham in close 
pursuit. The earl did not penetrate far into the 
lane, pausing in the shadow of a hedge-bank just as 
Crafton paused before Mrs. Malson’s garden gate. 

The villain gave a swift, keen glance up and down 
the lane, then, seeing no one, inserted a key in the 
lock, opened the door, and passed into the garden. 

The earl came up rapidly, and arrived at the gar- 
den entrance in time to hear the receding footsteps 
of Crafton as he neared the house. 

The earl tried the door. It was fastened. He 
attempted to scale the wall, and being lithe and 
agile, succeeded in doing so, to the great detriment 
of his garments. His hands were protected by thick 
gloves, which were torn to shreds by the broken 
glass on the top of the wall, but he heeded no obsta- 
cle, and presently dropped safely to the ground 
within Mrs. Malson’s garden. 

He paused a moment to take his bearings. Then 
he followed the path that led to the house, and came 


Reunited, 


343 


within view of the side door at which Cecil had 
entered. All was dark and deserted upon this side 
of the dwelling. 

He passed around to the main entrance. 

A light streamed from between the folds of the 
heavy curtains of Mrs. Malson’s morning-room. 
Other lights gleamed faintly from the upper win- 
dows. 

Lord Glenham boldly mounted the steps of the 
main porch and sounded the knocker loudly. 

After a brief delay, during which he repeated his 
summons more peremptorily, steps were heard upon 
the bare floor of the hall within, and a voice 
demanded who was there. The earl replied by a 
third cannonading with the knocker. 

There was some hesitation, a sound of parleying, 
the rattling of bolts, bars and chains, and then the 
door was opened cautiously to the extent of a few 
inches, and old Sally peered out, again demanding 
who was there. 

“ I am Lord Glenham,*' replied our hero, quietly. 
“ I wish to see Miss Rosse.’* 

The housekeeper, in indecision, turned to question 
her mistress, who had advanced into the hall. The 
earl put his shoulder to the door and coolly entered 
the dwelling. 

“ I beg your pardon for my unceremonious 
entrance, madam," he said, courteously, removing 
his hat, and fixing his gaze upon the aged mistress 
of the house, but I must see Miss Rosse immedi- 
ately !’* 

Before Mrs. Malson could answer, there was a 


344 


Cecil Rosse, 


rustling sound above, a struggle between Cecil and 
Crafton, both of whom had opened their doors in 
alarm, and then Cecil, her red-brown hair streaming, 
her face wild, startled, but luminous in its splendid 
beauty, came flying down the stairs. Crafton, curs- 
ing, followed her. 

Cecil approached within a few paces of the earl, 
and stood, pale as death, while he, not less pale, held 
out his arms to her in a joy too great for words. 

Stand back, my lord!’' cried old Gretchen, sternly. 

How dare you come here ? How dare you look at 
Miss Cecil like that — you who are a married man ?” 

‘‘ Married ? I married ?” 

“ Yes, to Lady Trevor,” said Gretchen, fiercely. 

Oh, Mr. Crafton has told us all about it. We know 
your deceptions — ” 

The earl turned to Cecil, his fair face glowing with 
passionate love and tenderness. 

‘Ht is not true,” he said, impetuously. I am not 
married ! I never loved any one but you, Cecil. 
Come to me, my darling. Come !” 

He still held out his arms to her. The girl hesi- 
tated, trembled, then, with a strange, glad cry, sped 
forward, and was clasped to his breast. 

There was a long silence, during which Crafton 
gnashed his teeth in an awful fury, while Mrs. Mal- 
son and her servant stared, with a dawning compre- 
hension of the truth. 

^‘Get Miss Cecil’s bonnet and wraps!” said the 
earl, at last arousing himself, and turning to Gret- 
chen. 

The woman obeyed. 


Reunited, 


345 


‘‘ And now, false friend,” said Lord Glenham, 
calmly, turning to Crafton a vStern and sorrowful 
visage, we part here forever ! After all your base- 
ness and treachery, we can never meet again. I 
leave your punishment to your own conscience.” 

Crafton made no answer. A wild idea of attack- 
ing his kinsman and knocking him senseless occurred 
to him, but the earl was stronger than he. He put 
his hand toward his bosom in quest of a revolver, 
but old Sally, who had been watching him, seized 
upon him with the grasp of a grenadier and held 
him as in a vise. 

‘‘ There’ll be no murder done here,” she muttered. 
‘‘ Go, my lord. There’s the key of the front gate on 
the nail near the door. Go !” 

The earl needed no second bidding. Taking 
Cecil upon his arm, and followed by Gretchen, he 
hurried down the front garden and into the street. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

DISPOSED OF. 

It was evening. Lady Trevor was alone in her 
drawing-room. She, was expecting Mr. Pulford, 
and had denied herself to all visitors but him. The 
apartment was brilliantly lighted, and she wore a 
magnificent toilet in honor of his coming. Dia- 
monds, set in quivering sprays, glittered in her black 
hair, and diamonds, in rivers of light, encircled her 
throat, her arms, her fingers. Mr. Pulford liked dis- 
play, and she had adorned herself as a bride for her 
lover. 

But her face was not like that of a bride. Her 
hard black eyes glittered with a strange and sinister 
light. Her handsome features wore a hard and 
desperate expression. She was restless and uneasy, 
starting nervously at every sound, and now and 
then her hand unconsciously moved to her breast 
clutching at the two death-laden phials hidden 
beneath the folds of lace and velvet. 

Unable to sit down quietly, she paced the entire 
length of the room again and again, and approached 
[346] 


Disposed Of. 


347 


one of the windows, parting the curtains and star- 
ing intently into the street. 

“ He ought to be here,'' she muttered, restlessly. 

He telegraphed that he would arrive in London 
this morning. What if he has failed, after all ? 
But failure is impossible ! He has succeeded — and 
his success is his death-warrant !" 

She resumed her uneasy march to and fro, setting 
her full, red lips together in a grim and rigid line. 

Suddenly, as she walked, with bent head, at the 
far end of the apartment, she heard the sound of an 
arrival, the closing of the outer door of the dwelling, 
and the tread of feet in the hall. She started and 
advanced swiftly down the room, arrivir^g midway 
its splendid length as the door opened and Mr. Pul- 
ford entered her presence. 

He paused an instant, as if dazzled by her appear- 
ance, and then hurried forward to greet her. She 
submitted to his embrace, but did not return it. 

When did you return from Scotland ?’' she asked, 
as he released her, and she retreated a few paces 
from him. 

This morning," he answered. I was dead 
tired, completely used up, and have lain in bed all 
day. How magnificent you look, Edith ! Like a 
very queen ! Is all this splendor for my eyes or 
have you company ?" and he glanced around him 
hastily. 

“ I dressed for your eyes, Horace," said the 
widow, with hypocritical kindness. I will see no 
visitor this evening but you !" 

Pulford looked at her sharply. This new amia- 


348 


Cecil Rosse. 


bility on her part took him by surprise. She had 
rebelled against a marriage with him ; she had 
treated him with scorn and contempt ; he had heard 
her unwomanly avowal of love for Lord Glenham, 
and her declaration of hatred for himself ; he had 
read her aversion to him in her eyes ; and, having 
endured so much, had resigned himself to her pres- 
ent hatred, promising himself revenge upon her 
when he should become her lord and master. Her 
new kindness made him suspicious. 

‘‘You are not yourself to-night,'’ he observed, 
cynically. “ It is not like you to deck yourself in 
war-paint and feathers simply for my eyes. What 
does it mean, my dear Edith ? What treachery 
are you up to ?” 

The widow winced slightly. Could he read her 
soul ? She pretended to pout, to' hide her quick 
apprehensiveness, and said, as if aggrieved : 

“ Treachery ? How can you accuse me of 
treachery ? I don't pretend to love you ; I don't 
pretend that a marriage with you is to my liking, 
but since you went away I have resigned myself to 
the inevitable. I am too proud to let people think 
me an unwilling bride. If I must marry you, I will 
appear willing and happy. And, besides," she 
added, with seeming frankness, “ I am not so 
unwilling as I was. Lord Glenham scorned my love, 
and I want him to see that I am not wearing the 
willow for him. And, more than all, I have suffered 
so much anxiety in regard to that girl, that I am 
glad to marry you out of sheer gratitude for ridding 
me of her." 


Disposect Of, 


349 


This explanation seemed plausible. Pulford’s 
suspicions were disarmed. 

I am glad to see you sensible at last,” he 
remarked. I love you, Edith, and nothing on earth 
would ever tempt or compel me to let go my hold 
on you ; so, you see, you do well to resign yourself 
to the inevitable.” 

They had seated themselves, side by side, upon a 
sofa. And now Lady Trevor asked the question 
that had occupied her sleeping moments for days, 
and that had trembled on her lips from the moment 
of Pulford’s entrance — that question upon which 
Pulford’s fate, unknown to himself, depended. 

“ Tell me,” she whispered, what was your suc- 
cess } Is the girl alive or dead ?” 

Dead !” answered Pulford, with sinister exulta- 
tion. Dead, my dear Edith !” 

Dead !” 

The woman trembled with her great and evil joy ; 
her dark face flamed, and one trembling hand flew 
to her breast and clutched at the death-laden phials 
hidden there. 

‘‘You did not suppose that I would fail to accom- 
plish the object of my journey, I hope, Edith? I 
never fall in anything I undertake,” said Pulford, 
complacently. “ The girl is not only dead, but her 
body is obliterated — not a bone so big as that 
diamond pendant on your necklace remains of her.” 

Lady Trevor stared, incredulous. 

“ It’s a long story,” observed Pulford, “ but I’ll 
put it in as few words as possible. My journey 


350 


Cecil Rosse. 


northward was the luckiest undertaking of my life. 
But for it you and I would have been ruined !” 

‘‘ What do you mean ?* ’ 

The girl had escaped from Black Rock.’’ 

“ Escaped ! Great heaven ! Escaped ?” 

Yes. I arrived at Inverness and hired a horse, 
intending to make the journey across the country 
by the wild Highland passes to the northwest coast, 
and to Black Rock. But on the evening of the day 
I left Inverness, at a little mountain hamlet by a 
lake called Loch Low, I, strangely enough, encoun- 
tered Jarvis. It was a singular chance, that of 
our meeting. He told me that the girl was in a 
farmhouse close at hand, with her old servant, and 
that they had been there over a week ; that old 
Gretchen had written to Maldred Grafton to come 
to her mistress’ assistance, and that Grafton was 
looked for every hour. The old idiot — I mean 
Jarvis — had had no opportunity of sending for me 
without going to Inverness, as the post leaves Loch 
Low only once a week, and he had stayed on, not 
knowing what to do, but on the point of doing some- 
thing desperate, when I, with my usual luck, 
appeared on the scene.” 

‘‘And Grafton?” cried Lady Trevor, eagerly. 
“ Did you see him ?” 

“ I passed him on the road the next morning ; or 
rather, he passed me as I was hid in a thicket, and 
he rode by in a carriage. But the girl was disposed 
of before that time.” 

He told the story of Jarvis’ pretensions to being 
the proprietor of a, mad-house, of Cecil’s illness at 


Disposed Of. 


35i 


MacDougal’s farmhouse, and of all the incidents of 
that night in which the house had been burned 
down. 

Lady Trevor listened in a breathless horror. 

‘‘ And you are perfectly sure that she could not 
have escaped ?” she questioned, when at last she 
could find breath. 

I wish I was as sure of gaining the title I covet,'’ 
answered Pulford. “ Sure ? I’d risk my life on it, 
Edith. If you had witnessed that fire, its swiftness, 
and appalling suddenness, you would never ask so 
senseless a question. The girl is dead, and so is the 
old woman ! And as for the family who slept 
below, they barely escaped with their lives !” 

It was a bold and daring deed, but it was well 
done,” said Lady Trevor, warmly. “ I could have 
done it myself. I wonder what Maldred Crafton 
thought when he arrived at the ruined home and 
found that the girl was dead. Do you suppose that 
he will learn of your visit there ?” 

“ He will not know my name, for I usurped his 
and called myself Mr. Crafton,” said Pulford, with 
a laugh at his own cunning. But if he did trace 
my identity under that borrowed plumage, he 
couldn’t prove that I fired the dwelling. I have 
covered my tracks well, Edith. Whatever Crafton 
suspects he’ll keep to himself, since he can prove 
nothing against me !” 

“When did all this happen ? You came direct to 
London after its occurrence ?” 

“ No, I was detained two or three days at Inver- 
ness. My horse fell under me just before I reached 


352 


Cecil Rosse, 


the town after my visit to Loch Low, and I was 
slightly injured, enough to lay me up at the Cale- 
donian a couple of days and put me under the 
doctor’s care. As you may imagine, I kept very 
quiet, not stirring out of doors lest I should meet 
Crafton, and when I came away on the train I 
muffled myself carefully and secured a compart- 
ment to myself. But, in spite of all my precautions, 
the hour before I left Inverness I was discovered at 
my hotel by Jarvis — ” 

‘‘By Jarvis? You said he returned to Black 
Rock !” 

“ I said that we separated, he going toward Black 
Rock and I setting my face toward Inverness. 
And that was true. The rascal started for Black 
Rock. But he had gone little over two days’ jour- 
ney when he came upon the dead bodies of his wife 
and the Portuguese woman in a wild mountain-pass. 
The two women had been frantic with fear on being 
left alone at Black Rock, he supposed, and had set 
out on foot to follow him. They wandered on the 
trail for days, then their provisions must have given 
out, and they, half starved and • feeble, had at last 
perished miserably by the wayside. I tell you the 
story briefly. Jarvis was half beside himself with 
grief. The beggar must have loved his wife. Yet 
he left her unburied as she had fallen with her 
companion, and stricken with terror, he wheeled 
about and hurried after me. He passed through 
Loch Low at night and saw no one. He had just 
reached Inverness when I saw him, and he came on 


Disposed Of, 


353 * 


to London by the same train with me, but in a 
second-class compartment/’ 

‘‘So the two women, Mrs. Jarvis and Maria, are 
dead, too T' muttered Lady Trevor. “ That is well. 
We shall have nothing to fear from them.” 

“Nothing. They have served our purpose, let 
them perish. We need not fear Jarvis. I think 
he’ll leave the country, he’s so cut up about his wife’s 
death. The way he described the finding of those 
two bodies, huddled up in the road, would have 
made your flesh creep. The women must have been 
frenzied, or they never would have attempted to 
cross the country on foot, and in such cold as they 
must have found. Why, the snow lies thick in some 
of those passes now !” 

“ I feel as if I could breathe freely at last !” said 
Lad}^ Trevor. 

“ Thanks to me, my dear. Our marriage-day 
approaches. Are you ready? Is the momentous 
affair of the trousseau duly settled ?” 

“Everything is ready!” answered Lady Trevor, 
with her hand at her breast, an odd smile on her 
hard lips. 

“ I am glad to hear it. I suppose that grandpapa 
shows no sign of relenting ?” said Pulford, airily. 

“ None whatever. But I expect overtures from 
him. I am his only living descendant, and I have 
played a filial part lately toward him that must 
have won upon him, notwithstanding his old dis- 
like of me. Besides, I have had a visit from Lady 
Glenham. The earl, of course, never told her of the 
little scene between him and me in this drawing- 


354 


Cecil Rosse, 


room. She had heard the report of my betrothal to 
you and had come to ask me if it were true.*' 

And you told her — " 

That it was true — that I intended to marry you. 
I told her that ours was to be a pure love-match, 
that I found in you my very ideal of manhood,’* 
said the widow, speaking half truth and half false- 
hood. “ The countess sighed ; she had wanted me 
for her daughter-in-law ; she even shed a few tears, 
but in the end she gave me her blessing, and prom- 
ised to do her best to reconcile my grandfather to 
me. I wish her joy of her task. I would rather 
face a lion in his den than the old Marquis of St. 
Leonards when he is angry ! Yet Lady Glenham 
may induce him to keep up an outward semblance 
of friendship to me.** 

She has influence with him, and may induce him 
to come to a truce with us. Have you seen the 
earl recently ?*’ 

“ Not lately. He has left town, his mother said, 
upon another of his wild-goose chases. He is fast 
becoming a monomaniac in regard to that girl. If 
he should ever discover that she is actually dead, 
I presume he*d go mad entirely. I hope that I shall 
never see him again.” 

“We will go abroad directly after our marriage, 
Edith, and remain away at least a year. And when 
we return we’ll enter society, and grandpa shall use 
his influence to get me a title. That is all I shall 
need to complete my happiness.” 

He took one of her hands in his in lover-like man- 
ner. It was cold and clammy, and trembled with 


Disposed Of, 


355 


suppressed excitement. As he remarked upon this, 
Lady Trevor drew away hastily, exclaiming : 

“ Have you not told me exciting news ? Do you 
suppose I can hear such things unmoved ? The 
truth is, I have scarcely eaten anything since you 
went away, Horace. I have lived in a state of con- 
stant anxiety that deprived me of all appetite. But, 
now that all is safe, I begin to feel hungry again. 
Let me order supper to be served, and we will share 
it together.” 

Pulford assented. The proposition was one that 
Lady Trevor had often made to him before. He 
had shared in many ‘‘little suppers” at that house 
during the past year. 

He arose at her request and touched a bell, sum- 
moning a servant, to whom the lady gave her orders. 

A few minutes later, when the widow was in the 
midst of an account of some amusing occurrence 
that had transpired in town during his absence, the 
butler announced that supper waited. 

Mr. Pulford gave the widow his arm, and they 
descended to the breakfast-room — a smaller apart- 
ment than the great dining-saloon, and more suited 
to a tete-a-tdte repast. 

Lights glimmered softly in this luxurious room. 
The oval table was laden with delicacies. Lady 
Trevor dismissed her servants, and exclaimed 
gayly : 

“ I remember your fondness for coffee, and shall 
pour a cup for you with my own hands. And you 
shall mix the dressing to the salad. I remember 


356 


Cecil Rosse, 


that Sir Albert used to say that no Frenchman could 
equal you in dressing a salad.’' 

Pulford accepted his usual task, and set to work 
with an ardor worthy of a gourmand. Lady Trevor 
watched him a moment, saw that he was absorbed 
in his work, and then, still keeping her eyes fixed 
upon him, silently withdrew one of the phials from 
her breast. 

With a sleight-of-hand movement, she turned half 
the contents of the little bottle into one of the cups. 
Then, hiding the phial again, she gently manipulated 
the coffee-urn and filled the cup with the fragrant 
beverage. 

“ There,” said Mr. Pulford, pleasantly. I flatter 
myself that this salad will delight you. Let me help 
you, Edith.” 

He did so, and received the cup of coffee from her 
hands. Had his eyes dwelt upon her face, he would 
have noticed her grayish pallor, her livid lips, the 
uneasy glitter of her guilty eyes — but he did not 
look. His usual luck ” had deserted him. 

Lady Trevor trifled with her salad and biscuits 
and fruits, and watched him stealthily while he 
drained his cup of coffee, and passed the cup for 
more. 

The coffee is strong to-night, unusually so,” he 
remarked, and I will take a double supply. I want 
to visit my club after I leave you. I have an 
appointment with your lawyer — our lawyer, I mean 
— and I am about due there now.” 

Lady Trevor refilled the cup. 


Disposed Of, 


357 


There was a little more conversation and Pulford 
arose to take his leave. 

‘‘ I will look in upon you in the morning/' he said. 

Our marriage-day is close at hand. Good-night, 
Edith, and dream of me !" 

He kissed her with love-like ardor, again and 
again, and then made a last adieu and departed, 
humming a tune. 

Lady Trevor returned to the drawing-room, her 
knees trembling under her, her heart throbbing 
wildly. 

It is done," she whispered to herself. “ Had I 
given him the full dose he would have died upon the 
instant. Half the contents of the phial means as 
surely death, but grants an hour’s reprieve. He will 
die elsewhere ; there will be no scandal ; and I shall 
never be suspected of killing him. The deed is 
done — his doom is sealed — and I am free !" 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE SECRET DISCLOSED. 

It was the custom of the old Marquis of St. Leon- 
ards to rise at an early hour of the morning. 
Coffee and rolls were brought to him in his library, 
where he spent hours in writing, and in study of 
parliamentary debates and speeches. At eleven 
o’clock he was served in the breakfast-room with a 
solid repast, after which he was wont to go forth 
upon pleasure or business. 

At an early hour, therefore, on the morning sub- 
sequent to the event narrated in the preceding 
chapter, Lord St. Leonards was seated in his library 
hard at work. The tray had just been removed, 
and he was at his desk revising a speech of peculiar 
brilliancy to be delivered in the House of Lords that 
night. 

His political career had been very successful, and 
he was now at the zenith of his fame. His name 
was a household word throughout the kingdom. He 
was identified with his party, a favorite with his 
sovereign, hated by his opponents, and adored by 

[358] 


The Secret Disclosed, 


359 


his followers ; one of the most talked-of men in Eng- 
land. He had reached the height of his ambition, 
and was a power in the land. Surely he ought to 
have been happy. 

But the grand, haughty, leonine visage, with the 
piercing eyes set deeply under shaggy white brows, 
with the stern mouth shaded by a heavy white mus- 
tache, with the massive forehead furrowed with 
lines of care, was not the visage of a happy or con- 
tented man. 

His political success could not satisfy his heart. 
His great house was empty and desolate, and so was 
his heart. People spoke of him as haughty and 
domineering, devoid of feeling, and never dreamed 
of the aching void in his soul, nor of the long, sorrow- 
ful hours when he mourned for his lost little grand- 
child, the idol he had worshiped, the tiny creature 
he had expected to become the prop and stay, the 
comfort and the joy of his declining years. 

His pen travelled swiftly over the paper. He was 
in the midst of a sentence intended to carry dismay 
into the ranks of the opposition, when a servant 
entered with noiseless step, bearing a salver on 
which lay a visiting card. 

The old marquis raised his head with an ominous 
frown. 

Have I not told you, James,'’ he demanded, 
sternly, “ that I am not to be interrupted in the 
morning — that I will see no visitors ?” 

“Yes, my lord,” quavered the footman ; “ but you 
said, my lord, as you would always see Lord Glen- 
ham—” 


360 


Cecil Rosse. 


Lord Glenham ? Is it he ? Show him in, James.** 

The footman hastened to usher the young earl 
into the room. The marquis met his kinsman near 
the door and grasped his hand warmly. 

“ I am glad to see you, Gordon,** he exclaimed, 
and his kindling face attested his truthfulness. 
‘‘ Your mother told me that you had gone off upon 
some new clew. What luck have you had, my dear 
boy? You look changed — is it possible that you 
have good news ?’* 

The best of news !’* declared the young earl, joy- 
ously. My dear old friend, you have assisted me 
in my search for Cecil. Rejoice with me. She is 
found !** 

“ Found ? Alive ?** 

‘‘Alive and well. We have just arrived in Lon- 
don by the Scottish night-mail. I dared not take 
her back to her old lodgings, for reasons I will 
explain to you, and I cannot take her to my own 
house until I shall have prepared my mother to 
receive her. In this dilemma, remembering your 
interest in her, and knowing that your house will 
be a safe refuge for her, I have ventured to bring 
her to you !” 

“ To me ? Where is she ?*’ cried the marquis, 
excitedly. 

The earl stepped to the door, and at his summons, 
Miss Rosse, followed by her old servant, entered. 

The old marquis met Cecil with outstretched 
hands. He drew her to him with a fatherly tender- 
ness kissed her pure young forehead. 

1 am glad to see you, my dear child !” he said, in 


The Secret Disclosed. 


361 


a voice full of emotion. Glenham has done well 
to bring you to me. My house and my heart are 
open to you.'* 

Cecil's heart warmed to the grand old lord, and 
with a pretty impulsiveness she put up her sweet 
young lips and kissed him. 

‘‘ Cecil is my promised wife, my lord," said the 
earl, proudly. ‘‘I beg you to receive her as 
such — " 

Gladly, my dear boy," said the marquis, thrill- 
ing strangely under the glance of the girl’s red- 
brown eyes with the golden glimmer in their sombre 
depths. “ I congratulate you on having won her. 
Sit down, Miss Cecil. And now tell me — I am 
burning with impatience — where have you been 
hiding all these months ?" 

“ Let me tell you that, my lord," said the young 
earl, gravely. ‘‘ If you will kindly allow Cecil to be 
shown to a room where she can rest for an hour, I 
will improve her absence by explaining the entire 
mystery.” 

The marquis touched a bell, and ordered the 
housekeeper to be sent to him. Upon her appear- 
ance, he placed Cecil in her charge, requesting her 
to pay personal attention to the young lady’s com- 
fort. He escorted Cecil to the door, and watched 
her with a strange, yearning gaze as she disappeared 
down the long hall with the housekeeper and old 
Gretchen. 

“ How beautiful Miss Rosse is !" he exclaimed, 
returning to the earl. Her gaze goes straight to 
my heart, Gordon. I never told you, I think, but 


36'2 


Cecil Rosse. 


her eyes are very like a pair of eyes I worshiped 
once, deep, sweet, tender eyes. You have done well 
to bring her to me. And now what is all this mys- 
tery ? Where has she been all these months ?’* 

“ She has been a prisoner, my lord, in the hands 
of wicked people. She has been immured in a 
lonely house on the extreme northwest coast of 
Scotland, guarded by murderous jailers, who 
sought her life,'* said the earl, solemnly. The 
story is almost incredible. Let me tell it as briefly 
as possible." 

He rehearsed the story of Cecil, relating all her 
experiences of the past few months. 

The marquis listened with a countenance expres- 
sive of horror. 

‘‘ Who is this terrible enemy who sought her life ?" 
he demanded, when the earl had concluded. ‘‘ Who 
is this monster who would have killed an innocent 
young girl ?” 

The earl hesitated 

“ It was Lady Trevor," he said, slowly, after a 
brief pause. 

<<My granddaughter?" cried the marquis, 
aghast. 

“ Yes, my lord. And Mr. Pulford was the instru- 
ment of her guilty will." 

The marquis sat as if stupefied. 

“ A murderess ?" he said huskily, after a long and 
awful silence. My God ! To think that one of my 
blood can be so base, so lost to honor, so utterly 
lost and vile ! A murderess ? What object could 
she have had in Miss Rosse’s destruction ?" 


The Secret Disclosed, 


363 


“ You had shown an interest in Miss Rosse, my 
lord/' suggested the earl, “ and had avowed your 
intention of adopting her and making her your 
co-heir." 

‘‘ But Edith is immensely wealthy. Even if she 
were a Borgia, that would not have seemed to her 
sufficient reason for destroying Miss Rosse. She 
must have had some other motive — some more pow- 
erful one. What can it have been ?" 

The earl reddened. He could not tell the mar- 
quis that Lady Trevor had avowed a love for 
him — Lord Glenham — and that jealousy might 
have given impulse to her wicked hatred of Miss 
Rosse. 

“There must be some other reason," continued 
the marquis, musingly. “ But pardon me, Gor- 
don. You look worn and tired. Let me send you 
up stairs to rest. I will have breakfast sent up to 
you. You will find me here when you come 
down." 

The old lord summoned his butler and gave his 
guest into his charge. 

Left to himself, he paced his floor with a gloomy, 
thoughtful face. 

He reviewed in his own mind all the story he had 
heard. He recalled the features of Cecil's exquisite 
beauty, and tried to fathom, by guess-work, the 
motives that had animated Lady Trevor in her 
wicked attempts upon Cecil's life. 

“ Could she have been prompted by jealousy ?" he 
asked himself. “ Or had she some deeper motive 
still ?" 


364 


Cecil Rosse. 


The more he thought upon the subject, the more 
bewildered he became. The whole thing was a 
puzzle beyond his capabilities of solution. 

Finally, he determined to cut the Gordian knot 
by applying to Lady Trevor herself for an explana- 
tion. 

Miss Rosse and the earl made their appearance in 
the library soon after he had eaten his second break- 
fast, to which, as may be imagined, he brought little 
appetite. 

The marquis made known his decision, and 
requested his guests to accompany him to Lady 
Trevor's house. Cecil grew pale but assented. 
The carriage was ordered, and the little party, 
including Gretchen, who entreated to be allowed to 
accompany her young mistress to the house of that 
“ dreadful woman," set out for the widow’s stately 
residence. 

As they quitted his door, a woman in black, who 
had been about to ascend the steps, halted, listened 
to the order the marquis gave his coachman, and 
then moved rapidly away. 

The woman was Sarah Peters ! 

Upon arriving, the party was shown into Lady 
Trevor’s drawing-room, and Lord St. Leonards’ 
card was taken up to his granddaughter. 

Lady Trevor made her appearance almost imme- 
diately. She looked worn and haggard, her black 
eyes glittered, her lips were bloodless. She was 
very nervous, starting at every sound. 

She ascribed the visit of the marquis to one of 
two causes. Either he had been persuaded by Lady 


The Secret Disclosed. 


365 


Glenham to restore her to some outward appearance 
of his favor, or he had heard of Pulford’s death, and 
had come to her in consequence. 

She did not notice Cecil or Gretchen at first, but 
approached the old lord, with an artificial smile, 
extending her hand. 

The marquis stood up, stern and solemn, his 
hands behind him. 

Edith,” he said, in a voice that startled her, 
^‘pernrtt me to present to you — Miss Rosse.” 

Cecil arose, throwing back her vail. 

The unhappy widow staggered back, with a gur- 
gling cry, staring at the girl as if she had been a 
Gorgon. 

“ My God !” she muttered, clutching at the air. 

Alive ! If Pulford were only here !” 

She caught hold of a chair to keep herself from 
falling. She comprehended that ruin and disgrace 
had come upon her. For a moment her despair was 
equal to her horror. Then, as she remembered that 
the dread secret of her life was still safe, she tried 
to command herself. 

While she was struggling for self-possession, 
Gretchen stood up, her rugged features convulsed 
with agitation, her long, bony forefinger out- 
stretched and pointing at an oil portrait hanging on 
the wall. 

The picture !” she gasped. It is the likeness 
of the man who brought Miss Cecil to the parson- 
age at Zorlitz ! It is the picture of the mysterious 
guardian of my dear young lady !” 

It is the picture of Sir Albert Trevor !” ejacu- 


366 


Cecil Rosse. 


lated the old marquis, excitedly. “ What does this 
all mean ? Speak, Edith. Confess the truth. Who 
is Miss Rosse C 

Lady Trevor looked as if turned to stone. 

The door opened softly and Sarah Peters glided 
in. She had followed Lord St. Leonards in a cab, 
and had forced her way past the servants into the 
drawing-room. She appeared now upon the scene 
like an incarnate fate. 

“ I can answer that question. Lord St. Leon^hrds,’* 
she said quietly, drawing all eyes upon herself. 

I have been to Paris, to Germany. I have solved 
the whole mystery of Miss Rosse !’* 

What is it r 

“ Fifteen years ago. Lady Trevor adopted my 
child, or pretended to do so, under an assumed 
name at Baden-Baden,’' said Mrs. Peters. ^‘My 
child was a girl three years old dying of maras- 
mus.” 

The marquis started. 

I parted with my child through the direst 
poverty and distress,” continued Mrs. Peters, “ and 
Lady Trevor, under her assumed name, talked so 
fair that I gave up my little one to her. I never 
saw her again until recently, and then in answer to 
my questions she told me that my child died in 
Paris. I have been to Paris, as I said. Only one 
child was there in Lady Trevor’s keeping. That 
child was mine. My Lord St. Leonards, the little 
child you buried in your ancestral vault was not the 
little Lady Alba Ravendale, but she was my own 
offspring.” 


The Secret Disclosed, 


367 


The old marquis grew deathly white, and gasped 
for breath. He looked as if threatened with 
apoplexy. 

“ I have traced out the whole fraud from the 
beginning," said Mrs. Peters, “ and I have proofs. 
Here they are, “and she exhibited a packet of 
documents. “ I leave my reward to your own 
generosity, Lord St. Leonards, but here are the 
sworn proofs that the girl whom Sir Albert Trevor 
took to Zorlitz, and left there at the parsonage, was 
actually the Lady Alba Ravendale, your grand- 
child, my lord, and heiress." 

Her words carried conviction to the marquis* 
soul. He took a step toward Cecil, and then opened 
wide his arms to her, his grand old face transfigured 
with a joy too sublime for words. 

Lady Trevor’s haggard eyes, full of profound 
despair, glared around her. Her hand went grop- 
ingly to her breast. 

“ Is there anything more ?" she said, huskily. 

The door again opened, and two men, in plain 
clothes, but with the air of policemen, entered. 
Lady Trevor turned her glaring eyes on them. 

“ Madam," said the foremost, “ we have a most 
unpleasant duty to perform. We arrest yoti in the 
name of the Queen, for the murder of Horace Pul- 
ford, who died last night at his club-house T 

A horror-stricken gloom fell upon the group. 

“ Pulford dead ?" exclaimed Lord Glenham. 

“ He is dead, my lord. He expired in great 
agony about midnight. The physician who was 
summoned to attend him certified that he was poi- 


368 


Cecil Rosse. 


soned, and Mr. Pulford made a dying statement to 
the effect that Lady Trevor had poisoned him at a 
supper at her house some two hours previous. Mr. 
Pulford’s relatives have taken up the case. We 
must trouble your ladyship to accompany us.” 

Lady Trevor gave a second gurgling cry. Her 
countenance was frightful in its gloom and despair. 

It’s all up !” she said in a hoarse voice. My 
secret is out. Everything is wrested from me — 
reputation, liberty, wealth, even life itself. The 
felon’s cell, with which threatened me, has opened 
its door for me. ' The gallows waits. I have but a 
last word for you. Lord St. Leonards, since Mrs. 
Peters has all the proofs of her statements, since 
denial is useless. I own that Cecil Rosse is actually 
and truly the Lady Alba Ravendale, your grand- 
child and heiress. It was Sir Albert Trevor who 
planned that fraud, and who carried it into effect. 
To Sir Albert Trevor, my husband, I owe my own 
ruin ! I go to meet him among the eternal shades !” 

She drew from her bosom the phial of poison that 
remained to her, raised it to her lips, and drained it 
at a draught. 

The policemen sprang forward to prevent the 
fatal act, and caught her as she fell forward, in the 
agonies of death. 

She was buried beside her husband, whose evil 
counsels and evil example had been her bane. 
The story of her guilt could not be hushed up, but 
some newer excitement soon caused it to be for- 
gotten. 

Cecil Rosse, proven to be the Lady Alba Raven- 


The Secret Disclosed. 


369 


dale, resumed her old empire over the heart of 
her worshipping grandfather. The Countess of 
Glenham, at first sight, fell in love with the 
beautiful young heiress, and bitterly repented the 
pride that had worked so much of woe. She vied 
with Lord St. Leonards in worship of the lovely 
young creature whose life had been so strangely 
shadowed, and Cecil gave her a daughter’s affec- 
tion. 

Mrs. Peters received from the overjoyed and 
grateful Marquis an annuity that would amply 
suffice for all her wants and enable her to educate 
her sons. 

Crafton never again obtruded his presence upon 
Lord Glenham. He obtained an official post abroad 
and buried himself in official duties, soured and 
embittered by his failure to win Cecil to be his wife, 
and as unhappy as the strictest justice could desire. 
He went unscathed by the law, but the knowledge 
of Cecil’s grandeurs and the fact that she is the 
happy wife of Lord Glenham is a punishment the 
heaviness of which none but himself can know. 

Cecil and the Earl of Glenham were recently mar- 
ried with all the pomp and show of an aristocratic 
English wedding. Royalty sent gifts to the young 
Lady Alba Ravendale, upon the occasion of her 
bridal, and the fashionable world thronged to St. 
George’s Church, Hanover Square, to witness the 
marriage of the season and to gaze with admiration 
upon the splendid young beauty who is expected 
to create such furore next season. The wedding 
trip of the happy pair was to the Black Forest, to 


370 


Cecil Rosse. 


the little village of Zorlitz, where the inhabitants 
turned out en masse^ to greet with rejoicing the 
happy return of their former favorite and her old 
servant. 


LIDA CAMPBELL, 

OR 

DRAMA OF A LIFE. 


^ NoBel. 


JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of Under Oathf Under a Cloud f John Win- 
throp's Defeatf etc. 


WITH ILLUSTBATIONS BY H. M. EATON, 

12mo. 351 Fagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This beautiful story was written one year ago. Even then the 
author had premonitory symptoms of the fell disease which so 
recently struck her down in her youth. Her talent was develop- 
ing rapidly, and she promised to become one of the most popular 
writers of the day. ‘‘ Lida Campbell, or Drama of a Life,’^ is a 
novel of the present. Its characters and incidents are familiar, 
and have the strong interest of natural sequence and probability. 
The emotional power which is a marked characteristic of Miss 
Ludlum^s work is strongly wrought out in this novel, and the 
most casual reader cannot fail to be intensely interested in it. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER^S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A CHEAP EDITION 

In Ornamental Paper Cover. Price, 50 Cents. 


A NEW NOVEL 

By the Author of “ The Forsaken Inn.” 

A MATTER OF MILLIONS. 


BY 

Anna Katharine Green. 


WITK ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PERARD. 

12mo. 482 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Engrlish Cloth. Gold 
Stamping: on Cover. Price, $1.50. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This brilliant, artistic novel will enhance the great reputation 
of the popular author of ‘‘The Forsaken Inn.” It is a story 
of to-day. The scene is laid in the city of New York and the 
village of Great Barrington, Mass. The story recites the strange 
adventures of a beautiful heiress who is herself so mysterious a 
creature that the reader cannot fathom her character until the 
final explanation and denouement of the plot. She is an intel- 
lectual and talented girl, whose musical gifts make her admired 
and beloved by her own sex, and the object of passionate adora- 
tion by the other sex. The artistic life is pictured and exempli- 
fied by two of the principal characters in the story. Everything 
conspires to make the story one of strong dramatic interest. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A CHEAP EDITION 


In Handsome Paper Cover. Price, 50 Cents. 


The Forsaken Inn. 

By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN. 

ILLV8TRATED BY VICTOR PERARD, 


Anna Katharine Green’s novel, The Forsaken Inn,” is ad- 
mitted to be her best work. The authoress of ‘‘The Leaven- 
worth Case ” has always been considered extraordinarily clever 
in the construction of mystifying and exciting plots, but in this 
book she has not only eclipsed even herself in her specialty, but 
has combined with her story-telling gift a fascinating mixture of 
poetical qualities which makes “ The Forsaken Inn” a work of 
such interest that it will not be laid down by an imaginative 
reader until he has reached the last line of the last chapter. The 
scene of the story is the Hudson, between Albany and Pough- 
keepsie, and the time is the close of the eighteenth century. In 
writing her previous books, the authoress carefully planned her 
work before putting pen to paper, but this story was written in a 
white heat, and under the spur of a moment of inspiration. 

“The Forsaken Inn” would have a large circulation even it 
the author was less well known and popular than Anna Katharine 
Green. With the author’s reputation and its own inherent excel- 
lence, we confidently predict that it will prove the novel of the 
season. 

The illustrations of “ The Forsaken Inn ” are by Victor Perard. 
They are twenty-one in number, and are a beautiful embellish- 
ment of the book. 


“A GOOD PKENCH NOVEL.” 


MADEMOISELLE DESROCHES 


BY 

Andre Theuriet, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 

By META DE YERE. 

WITS ILLVSTRATIONS BY HARRY C. EDWARDS, 

12mo. 320 Paeres. lUiistrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 

Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Andr6 Theuriet is a name well known to readers of choice 
fiction. Her novels occupy a high place in modern French 
literature. Many of them have been translated and published 
here, but this one, so far as we can ascertain, is entirely new. 
It is the story of a French physician’s daughter brought up by a 
French peasant family, whose good sense and delicacy of feeling 
are strengthened by a simple country life. Her subsequent his- 
tory is full of interest, and shows how closely character and truth 
and romance are related. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

CoR. William ajmd Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS 


BY 

E. VON DINCKLAGE, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By S. E- BOGGS. 


WITH ILLU8TBATI0N8 BY WABBEN B. DAVI8. 


12mo. 318 Faires. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 

‘‘ The Little Countess” is a delightful novel. It is full of life 
and movement, and, in this respect, is superior to most transla- 
tions from the German. It is distinctly a story to be read for 
pure enjoyment. The little countess belongs to an ancient and 
noble family. She is left an orphan in a lonely old castle, with a 
few servants and pets. Her heroic temper sustains her in every 
trial. The part played by an American girl in the story is very 
amusing, and shows what queer ideas are entertained of American 
women by some German novelists. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER^S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE NORTHERN LIGHT 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 


E. WEKNER, 


BY 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey. 

12mo. 373 Pag’es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Since the death of the author of ^^Old Ma’mselle’s Secret,” 
Werner is the most popular of living German writers. Her 
novels are written with great literary ability, and possess the 
charm of varied character, incident and scenery. The Northern 
Light ” is one of her most characteristic stories. The heroine is 
a woman of great beauty and strength of individuality. No less 
interesting is the young poet who, from beginning to end, con- 
stantly piques the curiosity of the reader. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of 
price, by 

ROBERT BONNER^S SONS, Publishers, 

CoR. William and Spruce Streets, New York, 


THE TWO HUSBANDS; 

OR, 

BURIED SECRETS. 

BY 

MRS. HARRIET LEWIS. 

Author of Her Double Lifef Lady Kildare f Eddd‘s 
Birthright f Beryl* s Husband f etc. 

WITH ILLVSTRATI0N8 BY F. A. CARTER. 


12mo. 402 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This is one of the most interesting of Mrs. Lewis’s novels. It 
opens with the quest for an heiress. Some of the chapter-headings 
are full of suggestiveness, as, for instance: ‘‘The Night Before 
the Wedding,” “Husband and Wife,” “Affairs Take a Strange 
Turn,” “ A Conflict,” “ Now for Revenge,” “ Explanations,” etc. 
There is a plot and strong situations, and abundance of incident 
and movement in the story. Mrs. Lewis never failed to write a 
novel that would hold the reader from the first to the last chapter 
and satisfy the desire for agreeable excitement. To all who have 
read and admired “Her Double Life” we recommend “The 
Two Husbands.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


An Insignificant Woman. 

51 0 tor 2 of 5ltti0t iCife. 

BY 

W. Heimburg. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By MARY STUART SMITH. 


WITJT ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. BA VIS. 

12mo. Beautifully Illustrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 
Price, $1.00. Paper Cover. 50 Cents. 


This is a matchless story. It is a vindication of woman. It 
ends finely, so as to bring out beautifully the glorious character 
of the heroine, the insignificant woman. The combination of 
the artistic and practical in this story makes it peculiarly suited 
to the taste of our times. It is impossible to imagine more 
beautiful and effective lessons of magnanimity and forbearance, 
strength and gentleness, than are inculcated in this novel. 
Every woman who lives for her children, her husband and her 
home will find her heart mirrored in the pages of this fascinating 
story. It is told in a manner that must please all readers, and is 
exquisitely rendered in the translation. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New V’ork. 


THE CARLETONS 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of ** Mrs. Harold Staggs ^ Confessions of a Frivolous^ 
Girlf etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY WILSON DE MEZA. 


IBmo. 309 Pagres. Illustrated. Handsomely Bound In Cloth, 
Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


In The Carletons ” Mr. Grant has given his admirers a fresh 
and delightful novel. It is a New England story and the char- 
acters are truthfully drawn. Boston is the scene of the principal 
transactions, although the story opens in a neighboring suburban 
town. The charm of the story is in the humorous delineation of 
New England family life. The children are interesting, and 
when they grow up into men and women, as they do in the 
progress of the story, they are more interesting and charming, 
and the reader takes a deep and abiding interest in their history 
to the close. Mr. Grant^s amusing and refreshing humor lights 
up every page of the book. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER^S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


REUNITED 


A. STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

BY A POPULAR SOUTHERN AUTHOR. 

Xllustrated by F. A. Carter. 


Handsomely Decorated Paper Cover, Price, 60 Cents. Bound 
in Cloth, Price, $1.00. 


This is a splendid novel of the late War. It deals with the 
armies and their operations on both sides and shows the feelings 
of brothers who crossed swords in the conflict. The main theatre 
of the incidents is the State of Kentucky and the famous blue- 
grass region celebrated for its beautiful women, its fine horses 
and its more widely known Bourbon whiskey. There is a brisk 
movement in the novel, in keeping with scouting, marching and 
cavalry charging. The author was a soldier, and he has crowded 
his pages with adventures and stories of camp-life, which have 
great interest, and charm one by their truth to nature. Rarely 
has any great crisis produced more heroic spirits than the War 
for the Union. They fought and bled on both sides of the line, 
jand this novel commemorates their valor, and shows how true 
hearts were reunited at the end of the struggle, and that peace 
brought more than mere cessation from strife. This is a novel 
which appeals to every one. 


BERYL’S HUSBAND. 


BT 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

Author of Lady Kildare Sundered Hearts^* ** Hef 
Double Lifey* etc* 

WITH NUMEROUS BUJUL-PAGM ILLUSTBATTONB BT G, A, TRAVER. 

Paper Cover, 60 cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


A very charming story. It opens on the shores of Lake Leman, 
in the romantic city of Geneva, under the shadow of Mont Blanc. 
A young English girl, who has been educated at a boarding- 
school at Vevay, is suddenly left without natural guardians and 
means of support. Her beauty and interesting character attract 
a young English traveller, who induces her to run away with him 
and marry him. This is the beginning of a romantic novel of 
extraordinary vicissitudes and adventures. To give an analysis 
of the plot and situations would mar the interest of the reader. 
It is sufficient to say that it is equal to the best of Mrs. Lewis’s 
novels, not excepting ^‘Her Double Life” and ‘‘Lady Kildare.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A CAPITAL AMERICAN STORY 


UNDER A CLOUD. 

BY JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of Under Oathf etc* 

ILLUSTRATED BT WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. 300 Pagres. With Numerous Blustrations. Handsomely) 
Bound in Cloth, Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


It was once asked by a celebrated Englishman : Who reads 
an American Book V* The question is no longer a conundrum. 
American books are the popular reading of the present day.! 

Under a Cloud*’ is a spirited and pathetic account of the trialsl 
of a New York lady, who, in consequence of a promise wrung^ 
from her by her father, is put into relations with her husband 
which are almost unprecedented. The chain of circumstances 
by which the husband is implicated in a crime and the heroic 
efforts of the wife to traverse this chain and unravel the mystery 

f. 

make a history of overpowering interest. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, ^ 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


The Breach of Custom 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


BY 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 


WITH CHOICE ILLU8TBATI0N8 BY O, W. 8IM0N8. 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Bound Volume, $1.00. 


This is a translation of an interesting and beautiful German 
vel, introducing an artist and his family, and dealing with the 
lost pathetic circumstances and situations. The heroine is an 
character. Her self-sacrifice is noble and exalted, and the 
Influence which radiates from her is pure and ennobling. Every 
me who reads this book will feel that it is one which will be a 
W influence. Few German stories have more movement or are 
niore interesting. There are great variety and charm in the 
characters and situations. 


I • 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 


nee by 


ROBERT B 0 NNER»S SONS, Publishers, 

182 William Street, New York. 


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